


Ad Victoriam

by radvictoriam



Series: Now or Never [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Depression, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Multi, PTSD, Revenge, Smut, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, WARNING: mentions of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-08 07:10:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13453104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radvictoriam/pseuds/radvictoriam
Summary: After finding Shaun, Uri gained a new purpose: to destroy the Institute and everything it stands for. That goal just so happens to coincide with her boyfriend's, who came to the Commonwealth aboard an airship to do just that.This is the story of Uri Sanchez's fight to take down the Institute. With Arthur Maxson at her side, she had hoped the task would be easy. But will their feelings for one another hinder their progress more than they had anticipated?





	1. Control

Uri jumps as the door crashes into the wall of their bathroom, then winces as Arthur slams it shut. He doesn’t seem to notice she’s there as he paces the small stretch of space from the table to the entryway. The Elder’s hands are balled into fists, matching the crease in his brow and occasional string of curses flying from his lips.

“Good day?” She muses, finally gaining his attention. The fire in his eyes dies as he notices Uri, sat huddled on their bed with her Pip-Boy in hand. The familiar sounds accompanying Atomic Command filter through the tinny speakers, and she’s enraptured by it. The only giveaway she even paid attention to his outburst is the amused smile she’s wearing.

“Why are you hiding in here?” He grumbles. “I thought you were going to Sanctuary.”

“I am, but Kells booked a meeting with the Pilots. They don’t finish for another hour, so I decided to hide from the panic your pissiness is inciting in the others.”

“I’m not in any mood for teasing, Uri. Things are just… Not going well.”

His response is so lame, and he can tell it frustrates her. He has been having a hard time keeping his temper in check for well over a fortnight, now, and Uri cannot get him to explain why. She just wants to help, but he’s put up a great big 'do not enter’ sign.

“You could just tell me what’s wrong,” she presses. The game over screen flashes up and, with a huff, she tosses her Pip-Boy aside.

“We have had this conversation,” Arthur mutters. His coat feels stifling and God does he want to send a vertibird out to drop that good-for-nothing scientist somewhere in the middle of the ocean, but he cannot tell Uri this. Cannot explain how difficult Professor Scara is to work with. Not unless he wants her to wallow in guilt for not successfully retrieving Madison Li.

“Fine,” she mutters. Uri knows she will get it out of him sooner-or-later. As frustrating as it is, she drops it. She's soon distracted, in any case, as she watches him shrug off his battlecoat; revealing the too-tight flight suit that hugs the wide, muscular expanse of his back. She chews on her lower lip in wonder. How on Earth did she manage to score a man as perfect as him? He’s like some God, she thinks. Some perfect-bodied God sent down to sexually torment her.

“Can I massage you?” She croons, letting him see the reverence in her gaze. Ever since Arthur started to fill out, he has been used to such stares. They used to irritate him. Hell, they still do, but seeing that look in her gaze never fails to set his belly aflame. “It might help you relax.”

“I have a meeting at three-thirty.”

“It’s only two-fifteen, Arthur. Besides,” she looks so innocent as she retrieves some oil from one of her drawers, “It’s only a massage.”

He highly doubts that it will stay as 'only a massage’ - but finds he has no willpower to complain about it. As soon as he saw that hunger in those amber depths, he was lost to the embers she so effortlessly stokes into flames. His cock twitches as he unzips the suit, going slightly slower-than-necessary so he can catch the way her breath stutters at the sight of him. Then he lays on their bed, and she sits herself on the perfect apple of his ass.

Oh, but if seeing him sprawled out like this doesn’t do it for her. Auburn eyes become molten whiskey as she gazes at his form, all muscle, strong and hot and deliciously laid out - just for her. She has never been a possessive woman, but the thought of Arthur trusting anyone but her enough to sprawl out for them has her grinding her teeth. 

The cool oil dripping on his back has Arthur tensing in surprise; those perfectly trained muscles rippling under the pale expanse of his skin sends shudders down her spine. Ignoring the fire in her gut, Uri spreads the oil. It’s delightful, Arthur soon decides, having someone knead away years worth of knots in his shoulders. Made better knowing it’s her. Uri. His Uri. The contrast of added pain followed by the release of all that tension. He grunts as she massages a particularly stubborn knot, then sighs as the muscle is able to relax completely.

“I used to do this for my Pa,” she says, hoping to God it’ll distract her from the utterly unfair sounds he’s making. “Before he was called into the war, he worked in a factory. I’d give him massages to stop his shoulders from seizing up. After moving to Boston, my friends would make me massage 'em randomly anywhere. We once got detention 'cause I had a queue of people waiting for a turn in the school hallway.”

“You asked people to strip in a school hallway!?”

“No, no! God. You don’t have to be shirtless for it, but it works a lot better. They were just small, crappy massages. What I’m giving you is the real deal.”

“Thank God,” He chortles, dropping his head back to the pillow below his head.

She has reached the small of his back, now, and he can tell she’s getting turned on by the way she slides her fingers under the waistband of his uniform. She stops for a moment, and when he next feels movement her bare breasts are pressed into his back.

“My turn,” she whispers, low and breathless against the shell of his ear. He is half-hard already. God, what this woman does to him… She lays on her front, hiding herself from view, teasing him. He has never massaged anyone before, but he is a fast learner. Before long, he has her purring under his touch. He reaches her hips, toying with the sensitive flesh there, and her hips react by softly rutting - rubbing her now aching clit against the seam of her jeans.

“You’re beautiful, you know?” Arthur rumbles, knowing she’ll respond as he wishes. _Knowing_ that, if he were to refuse to touch her, she could get off on his voice alone. “So beautiful, laid out across my bed, tempting me. I have work to do, Knight. You know I can’t give in to your every whim… No matter how much you beg, I will not fuck you today.”

“Please,” she whispers, her hips rocking faster. He makes a displeased grunt that sends white-hot desire coursing through her, but then he is grabbing her hips to stop her.

“On your back,” he snaps, channeling all the authority of his roll. Uri is helpless to refuse. When she turns, he takes a moment to drink in the sight before him. His Knight. Beautiful, laid out like pre-war art for the taking. Her nipples are peaked with arousal, eyes lidded and wanton. Without his hands to stop her, she rocks against her jeans again, and God if he isn’t tempted to order her to play with herself there and then. Refuse to touch her. Make her get herself off just for him.

First thing’s first, the jeans have to go. Arthur unclasps the button and peels them away, leaving her in nothing but the lace panties she’d delightedly found at an old Fallons store north of Diamond City. He wants to touch it. Feel how wet she is through the soft, satin fabric. Instead, he oils his hands once more and softly traces the underside of her right breast.

“Arthur,” she breathes, clutching at the sheets beneath her. Her breasts are _so_ sensitive, yet never enough to push her over that edge. The sweetest torture; they have to be his favourite part of her.

“Insubordination is punishable, Knight. Please, remember who it is you are addressing.”

Stressed sex with Arthur is _always_ a delight. Usually he enjoys letting Uri take control, and she’s certainly not one to complain. But Uri has never been with someone who can switch roles like he can. One minute he’s keening for her to tell him how good he is, the next he’s holding off letting her cum until she’s chanting his leadership title in devotion. It looks like today will be the latter.

“Please, Elder,” she whines, “I need you to touch me.”

He strokes both breasts, this time. Letting his fingers brush lightly over every inch bar her nipples. With how sensitive they are after her massage, though, Uri is not going to complain. His touch is a live wire linked directly to her clit. She writhes under him, gasping and squeezing her thighs together as the molten heat of arousal has her underwear sliding against her folds. Arthur is painfully erect at the sight she makes; mewling, whimpering, frowning as she tries to find some form of friction. Without her jeans, however, it’s just not enough.

“Elder, please. I need more.”

He brings his lips to a nipple, now, and rolls his tongue over the peaked bud. She whimpers louder; forcing a hand over her lips in surprise. Those whiskey eyes fly open, hazy and needy and wide. He could do this _all day_ , yet he is wary of their duties. So, with some of the hunger sated, Arthur finally traces two fingers over her soaked underwear.

She arches her back and swears, and the sudden ferocity of her actions has him tugging her underwear aside and pushing in without warning. A choked sob is muffled by the palm on her lips; followed by a delighted squeak as he immediately begins thrusting his calloused digits against the spot that has her falling apart.

“You’re being so well behaved for me,” He drawls, shoving his hand down his waistband to relieve the pressure of his own arousal. When he groans she opens her eyes, and her head rolls back as the sight of him taking himself in hand sends another wave of desire flushing through her.

“You’re so good to me, Sir. I hope the- ah- I hope I’m helping you, too. Do you like seeing me fuck your fingers, Elder-- _ohfuckyesthere_ …”

“Uri,” he snarls, spilling at her sinful question. The shock of his sudden orgasm has his knees quivering, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t finish her off. She is giggling proudly at herself, so he shuts her up by using his now-free hand to pinch at her clit.

Her laughter turns into a yelp of surprise as her orgasm tears through her. Arthur guides her through it, ignoring the comfortable way his own head swims to enjoy the way her walls flutter against his fingers. How she twitches and sobs and sighs. He has her lick his hand clean as her breathing steadies, then finds some tissues to wipe his own release from her bare stomach.

“Mmm,” she sighs, “Thank you, Sir.”

“My pleasure,” he breathes, leaning over to kiss her. It’s sloppy and wet, but neither of them care. Once he has fully cleaned both of them up, Arthur fixes his uniform and reaches for his coat.

“I’ll see you later,” Uri winks. She’s pulled her t-shirt back on, but the way she settles back into the bed lets him know she won’t be moving anytime soon. He fights the smile threatening his features; she looks so at peace, it’s hard not to just fall down beside her and stay hidden together for the rest of the day. Sadly, he has too much to do.

“Be careful, at Sanctuary. And radio _Kells_ when you are ready to return. Delecroix is _not_ authorised to fly vertibirds.”

“Hey! It’s not _my_ fault he lied. I know better now,” she pouts, “anyway, off you go mister boss man. Don’t you have some scribes to terrorise?”

“ _Funny_ ,” he grumbles in a voice that makes clear it is anything but. Arthur _was_ going to go back to the airport but, if only to prove Uri wrong, he heads towards the tail end of the ship. Maybe Teagan has some updates he’s missed amidst the chaos…

\--

“Someone’s gonna figure out what you’re up to eventually, you know?”

The pilot’s statement causes Uri to pause; the sack full of fifty-caps hovering above his waiting hand. The Knight’s eyes narrow, hardening with impatience.

“As long as you’re getting your caps, you can keep spreading your tales of playing fetch with my dog and helping the Minutemen fix up vault one-eleven. My work here will be revealed when the time is right. Until then, you can keep doing the job I pay you to and keep your damn mouth _shut_.”

Lancer-Pilot Krellic looks just a little older than Uri, but the constant scowl he wears around her makes him look years beyond his age. He flashes it at her now; not bothering to hide his contempt.

“As soon as those caps stop rolling in, I’ll turn you straight in.”

“The caps won’t stop, don’t you worry. I have my sources.”

He mumbles something around the lines of being sure she does, presumably relating it to black-market practices. Uri pays no attention. Instead, she drops the first batch in his hands and slings her pack over her shoulder.

“Fifty there, fifty once you’ve picked me up. I’ll be a couple hours. Don’t die while I’m gone - the walk back is _awfully_ long.”

Krellic sneers before turning away. The vertibird boots back to life, and Uri takes that as her queue to get off; the jump is slightly too long to be comfortable, as he has already started to lift away. She supposes he won’t see the glare she throws at him, but never mind. Ignoring the dull throb of her joints, Uri heads on over to the flashing signs of Goodneighbour.

“Carl,” She nods in greeting.

“Sanchez,” He coughs, smoke spilling from his barely-there lips. “Remember, straight to the Memory Den. No funny business.”

“Aye aye, captain,” She salutes, still chuckling at her own joke as she walks through the gravelled streets. The Memory Den is tucked away in the run-down remains of what had once been Scollay Square’s centrepiece; still bathing the street in a hue of oddly romantic reds. She passes a seedy-looking ghoul, glaring in warning as he drools over her pack.

Irma is lounged in her usual chair, wearing her tattered burlesque dress and patchy, velvet coat. She doesn’t say anything when she spots Uri, but doesn’t shoo her out either. Over the course of her time in the Brotherhood, the Knight has gotten used to hostilities. The only place she can go where people don’t immediately seem to hate her is Diamond City. She’s not sure if that’s something to be happy about, though…

“There she is. The one and only!”

Deacon seems to have a gift for appearing out of _nowhere_. This time, it’s out one of the nearby walls; though she supposes he will have been inhabiting one of the empty pods, awaiting her arrival.

“Where the _hell_ have you been?” She demands. The only response he graces her with is a coy smile, so she rolls her eyes and shoves at his shoulder. “C’mon, Dee. I’ve been going through this for well over a week. You need to see it.”

Amari is in her usual place, surrounded by run-down computers and the like. The overhead lights flicker miserably; only adding to the feel of the dull reds and teals.

“Miss Sanchez. Deacon. Please, come in.”

Uri immediately sits in the pod, feeling an odd sense of familiarity wash over her. There’s that dent in the headrest, and the dip on the cushions that’s positioned just right for her thumb to slip into. Deacon doesn’t remove his glasses, but she can make out his anticipation through the way he gnaws at his cheek.

“Alright then, Wildfire. Maybe you wanna fill me in on what I’m gonna be watching?”

“Okay, I suppose I can now you’re actually _here--_ ” She gives him a pointed look, and that grin returns. “So, three months ago, I managed the impossible. I got into the Institute - with thanks to the Railroad’s decryption skills, by the way. So I figured it was only fair that the leader got to see, first hand, what the place looks like. Leader and all.”

“I don’t lead the Railroad,” He mutters, but it’s far too quick and the _first_ thing he is inclined to say. Uri raises a brow, but he ignores her. “But - damn, you really got in there? And they didn’t turn you into an ash pile? Now this, I gotta see.”

“Sorry, I forgot the popcorn, but I’m fairly sure it’s a show you’re not going to want to miss.”

“Enough chit-chat,” Amari scolds, finally stepping away from her terminals. She walks over with a recorder in hand. “This is Doctor Amari, logging day three of our analyses on the Institute,” yellowed eyes turn to Uri, “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” She nods, wishing she could say no. The glass locks down into place, securing the screen before her, and all Uri wants to do is lash out. _Three_. Oh, what is she doing? _Two._ Does she really have to go through it again!?  _One_ …

Bright lights. Clean and clinical. Bleached greys and rust-free steel. _Welcome to the Institute_ . Children. Elderly. _Our actions are often misinterpreted by those above ground._ Shaun. Terrified, wide-eyed, begging for his father. An old man, evil man wearing Nate’s face and Nora’s eyes. _It’s me. I am Shaun. I am their son. There is no I and them. Since you left the vault, you have done nothing but surprise us._

She wakes as she always does; tearful, trembling, fighting off the confused screams threatening to overcome her. Ghosts of the grief that suffocated her for weeks afterwards make themselves known; threatening to pull her back under. But she fights them off. Reminding. Remembering.

_I’m Knight Uri Sanchez of the Brotherhood of Steel, I was the last remaining survivor of vault one-eleven. My purpose was to find Shaun, but he’s lost. Now, my purpose is to end his reign of terror over the Commonwealth. I do not feel guilty. I feel angry, and I deserve revenge. If not for myself, then for his mother: Eleanora Jones._

Deacon is stood to the side, jaw agape; presumably processing what he just saw. It’s strange to think someone can just watch her memories. Experience them like they’re nothing more than pre-war holos. She’s still shaking as she stands, ignoring Amari’s orders to grasp him by the wrists. Uri has never seen Deacon look anything but cocky; this new state of shock is unnerving.

“Dee, did you notice? He has been watching me. He’s been watching me since I left the vault, and I need to know _how_. I won’t stop reliving this fucking God-awful memory until I get my answers. Does the Railroad know _anything_ about the tech they could be using to keep tabs on me?”

“We knew they could keep an eye on settlements, but we figured it was through synths. But if they’ve been following you… No. I-I don’t know. But I can’t be here. I can’t be with you, Sanchez. I’m sorry, but there’s too much at stake--”

“Hey! Deacon! Where are you _going_? Don’t be ridiculous, they’re not stalking me for _you--_ ”

She’s too late. By the time she rounds the stairwell, he’s already activated a Stealth Boy. It was a long shot to expect the Railroad to know anything, she must admit. But she hadn’t expected Deacon to _run._

“Coward!” She snarls, collapsing on the rotten steps. There goes asking the Railroad for _anything_ in the future. _I should have known_ , she curses herself. Of course they won’t help. Their headquarters is a fucking crypt; they’re just a bunch of radicals playing liberators. They only care about synths, so why would they risk their asses for her? “Cowards,” she mutters again. Quieter, choked out against the single sob she lets escape.

Krellec is as snarky as ever when he returns for pick-up, but Uri’s not in the mood. She hands him his fifty caps with a sniff and they set off back to the Prydwen. Uri’s not sure how she’s going to pass off her swollen eyes and broken voice to Arthur, but she’ll figure something out. He can’t know about her trips back to Goodneighbor; the one place she can relive her meeting with Shaun. He wouldn’t approve. He’d order her to stop, and it would only hinder their progress further.

But she needs to figure out how Shaun knew so much about her. If she can find that out… Well, it’s the first step she needs to take if she wants to win this war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A liiiittle shorter than usual, but I wanted to get this fic kickstarted. Also give ya'll some smut, considering I haven't actually published any of the Uri/Arthur good stuff for a while. Hope it was worth the wait!


	2. Recon

“Alright,” Danse grunts, making a show of clicking his safety off. To Uri, the sound seems to echo through the streets; reverberating off collapsed walls and rusted automobiles. She knows it’s just the adrenaline, but she isn’t the only one feeling a little jumpy. Even Del looks nervous, with his brow furrowed and lips pursed in a way the vault dweller has never seen. All four Knights under Danse’s command keep their eyes glued on the Paladin. “I’m confident I don’t need to remind you, but this is a huge mission. Mass Bay Medical Centre is a known spot of the Gunners. They are smart, ruthless and operate on a military-like basis. Be _careful_ \- we can’t go all guns blazing. They are _not_ raiders.”

“Yes, sir,” Rhys salutes. Uri finds that a tad melodramatic, but she can tease him about it later. For now, the sun is beginning to show signs of setting, and the last thing she wants is to be caught at nightfall in the heart of downtown Boston.

The Gunners’ have set up elaborate fortifications around the building, so the group have decide to enter through the ER section of the hospital. Uri had only ever been to Mass Bay once, thanks to Hawthorne getting himself banged up in a head-on collision. Although it’s not much, it’s more experience with this place than the others, so once Danse has cleared the entryway the team push through.

Gurneys, beaten-up terminals and various heaps of trash litter the check-in zone, but there are no Gunners in sight. There is, however, an elevator that will dump them inside the main entrance; helping them avoid detection from those heavily guarded turrets. Danse and Rhys are in power armour, so they do have to take two elevator trips, but the team eventually get themselves onto the ground floor completely undeterred.

“We’re here, they underestimated that side entrance, and this section isn’t well defended. Sanchez, you’re with me. Rhys, Del and Jarvis, you’re gonna start looking for Quinlan’s documents. If you don’t--”

“ _SCATTER!_ ”

Uri’s shriek has the desired effect as, in a heartbeat, the group have leaped away from their spot. The sudden jet of a red-hot laser beam almost scrapes her arm, but they all successfully avoid damage. Their hopes for stealth are obliterated in a heartbeat. None of them had taken the Gunners’ use of Assaultrons into consideration.

“Take it _out_!” Danse barks, as though that _wasn’t_ their immediate response to noticing the killing machine shooting lasers out its eyehole. Jarvis takes advantage of his sniping skills from behind the abandoned barricades, aiming for its chest piece whilst the others go for the head and arms. The racket clearly attracts attention. Underneath the gunshots and yelling, Uri can _just_ make out the familiar bark of orders from somewhere on the floor above.

“Incoming!” Del warns, eyeing the balcony overlooking the entrance. A Gunner is just setting up their scope, so Uri sends two quick blasts their way before using her last remaining charge on the Assaultron. She aims for its now exposed wiring, but it quickly shifts. The beam leaves nothing but a burned streak on the side of its chrome shell. With a curse, Uri takes cover by the desk and fumbles for another fusion cell.

By some miraculous string of luck, the others have taken the Assaultron out when she’s ready to re-engage. It’s discomforting that so few Gunners are in the area, but it doesn’t take them long to dispose of their remaining guards. Once they’re down Jarvis immediately begins looting, much to Danse’s chagrin.

“Get off of that, Knight. We’re not here for scraps. With any luck, that didn’t alert the others. Forget the plan to separate. We’re sticking together - I’m not losing anyone today.”

Jarvis looks downtrodden, but they all nod their agreement before following Uri upwards. She _hates_ this. She always has. Manouvering her way through side streets is one thing, but purposefully entering enemy territory; knowing you’re going to be caught one way or another… Going to be shot at in such close proximity. It’s one thing to fight Raiders, too, with their chem-addled reflexes and shoddy training, but the Gunners really are a whole other story. If it wasn’t for her time with Mac, she would have ventured into the group’s territory completely unprepared. Once again, she’s struck by how she owes him more than she could ever repay.

There’s no sign of any MRI machines in the immediate area though, when they scour the second floor, they do find two man-sized cages in a run-down waiting area. One of them is inhabited by the pre-war skeleton of a soldier; the other by a long-dead Minuteman. A couple of her brethren shoot looks her way, but she doesn’t show any sign of dwelling on it. They have ends they need to meet. Using a perfumed rag to fight off the stench, Uri presses on. There’s a set of double doors just ahead that lead to yet another wing of the ER, so she leads the team forward.

Same shit, different section. There’s another reception desk and a proliferation of rooms dedicated to medical checks; all of which are too small for an MRI machine to fit inside. As Uri spots the chems dotted across various counters, she dwells on how far she has come in the wasteland. Once upon a time, they would have kept her fed for a month. Now - with the Brotherhood - food is a given. Part and parcel of working with a fully-functioning militia. She _does_ notice Jarvis pocketing them, but she figures that’s for Teagan’s sake more than his own. He’s so far up the Proctor’s ass she’s surprised he dared venture out with them - but a pliable Teagan is a useful Teagan, so she won’t rat him out just yet... 

“Where _is_ everyone?” Uri huffs against the growing anxiety in her stomach. Del’s her nearest companion - he shakes his head.

“I dunno, Ur. But I don’t like it. Just… Stay ready, yeah?”

The elevators to the third floor are down, and the stairwell is blocked by rubble, but they do manage to find a collapsed floor that doubles up as a ramp. Whilst the lower floors were more old-school, _this_ floor has more of the steel-based build that was more familiar to the people of 2077.

It’s not until they reach the fourth floor that they find anything of interest. There’s a working elevator that _has_ to lead to the MRI machine but, before they can activate it, a choked sound distracts them. Jarvis is stood off to the side, clutching the bars of an old cage in despair. Inside sits the dead body of a scribe.

“Wilkins,” Danse murmurs, placing a hand on Jarvis’ shoulder. His eyes are heavy as he shakes his head. “My condolences, soldier.”

“Lets j-just get this over with,” the Knight snaps; rather uncharacteristic for a brown-noser, but Uri puts it down to his despair.

“Another elevator,” the Paladin sighs. “Ok, team. I have a bad feeling about what’s waiting on the other side, so I’m taking Rhys on the first trip up. Emerge _slowly_ and judge the situation based off of where you find us. If we… If something does happen, your orders are to retreat. Clear?”

“Yes,” Uri nods. She’s not sure how she manages to speak, filled with dread like she is. She tells herself Danse is just being careful. He’d never die losing to a bunch of Gunners, even if they are tough sons of bitches. He’s watching her as the elevator closes on them, and she swears that he’s throwing her a reassuring smile. The seconds feel like minutes, but the elevator eventually returns to them empty. Once Uri, Del and Jarvis are inside they begin their ascent - checking their charge as they go.

They are met with chaos.

The first thing Uri notices is the gunfire. There’s no sign of good, old-fashioned bullets in sights as the stench of ozone has her coughing into her sleeve. She ducks behind some fallen debris and scouts the area, counting at least ten Gunners shooting directly at them. Danse and Rhys seem to have a strong hold on them, considering the advantage of their power armour, but there’s a woman off to the left on the floor above who looks to be prepping a suit of her own. Her response is automatic - Uri races out through the line of fire, screaming in pain as a beam strikes her chest piece. It melts a hole in her armour, but the pain is from the heat rather than any injury. She can hear Danse yelling her name, but she ignores him. With the Gunners too distracted by the others, she yanks the rifle from her back and peers through her scope.

The idiot hadn’t noticed Uri in all of the chaos below. She’s just finishing putting the fusion core in place when the Knight takes her shot; missing the head but blowing clean through her shoulder. The Gunner cries out, clutching her wound with her left hand, and looks directly at Uri before she nails a second shot in her throat. Blood flies from her arteries, and the woman collapses in a messy heap on the ground. Her power armour is stained red, and Uri’s hands shake like crazy as she ducks just in time.

She manages to catch a couple more of them in their legs, knocking their focus long enough for Jarvis or Del to take care of them. Eventually the gunfire dies. Del’s got a nasty burn on the side of his face that he presses some unrusted metal to but, other than that, everyone’s fine. Everyone’s alive. Uri can only imagine how that might have ended differently if she hadn’t got the one with power armour.

Danse _clearly_ doesn’t share her train of thought.

“Knight Sanchez, I _explicitly_ told the group to stick together! _What_ were you thinking?”

“She had _power armour_ , Sir. I did the group a favour. With only you and Knight Rhys adequately protected, we would have been sitting ducks. We were outgunned; if she had been able to get any closer than they were, we’d be dead by now.”

The Paladin tears off his helm, and Uri sees just how angry he is. Those eyes, warm like hot cocoa after dark, are locked in a fiery blaze. It almost has her flinching.

“ _Never_ disobey my commands again, _especially_ in battle or I swear to _God_ I’ll have you brought up on charges so fast you’ll be on cleaning duty for the rest of your damn life!”

She wants to argue. Wants to argue until they’re both screaming - hell, she’s tempted to throw a damn punch right about now. She nods and stomps away, instead. Not caring about how pathetic she looks. The MRI must be up here, damnit, so she’s going to focus on getting that stupid magnet instead. Fuck the Paladin. Fuck it all.

It’s on the floor the power armoured Gunner had inhabited, off to the right. A huge, rusted machine that still has the skeleton of an unfortunate woman laying inside. Her heart aches as she pauses. She’s yanking the trolley out before she can really think about it. She noticed some sleeping bags in the control room, so Uri jogs on in and picks one up. It’s not a funeral, but it’s better than what she had before. With the bag covering the long-dead corpse, the Knight feels comfortable enough to begin rooting through the machine.

“Yes!” She yells, clapping her hands together. Danse is by her immediately, his gaze locked on the latch she has swung wide open. Inside lay not one, but _two_ magnets. Once the Paladin notices this, he smiles.

“Outstanding! Pack them up, Sanchez. This mission has been a fantastic success!”

\--

“Report, Paladin.”

They are stood on the command deck. Jarvis, Del, Rhys and Uri are froze to attention whilst Danse stands a little in front, saluting their Elder in typical fashion. Once Arthur has barked his orders, the Paladin drops his fist and nods.

“The place was infested with Gunners; they congregated around the top floors, where an old vertibird had crashed through the ceiling. It was difficult to decipher what they were after, but we successfully retrieved _two_ magnets from the old MRI machine… Knight Sanchez’s quick reflexes prevented a close call with an unexpected Assaultron, though we did hit two snags. Knight Jarvis seemed to deem it appropriate to begin looting corpses, and Sanchez almost got herself killed by disobeying my commands.”

All eyes lock on her, and she shifts uncomfortably. Arthur goes from looking pleased to _furious_ , and she gets the childish urge to kick the Paladin stood just two feet before her.

“Is this true?”

“There was a Gunner with power armour, _Sir_. She was firing it up. If I hadn’t jumped ahead to snipe her, you’d be down soldiers and without magnets.”

“That is, _of course_ , all under the assumption that I did not know what I was doing as your commanding officer, Knight Sanchez. Correct?”

“I-- no, of course not! I just saw an opportunity and took it.”

“Leave us,” Arthur says, the prime example of stoic calmness. Everyone just knows that he’s talking to Rhys, Jarvis and Del, who all salute before scurrying out the room. Del throws her a sympathetic glance, but then the door’s closed and it’s just Uri, Danse and Arthur.

“Uri,” Arthur growls, “I _told_ you that you need to follow Danse’s orders. If you can’t do something as simple as that, then I need to take you off active duty. Your stunt with taking back the Castle has been costly - I can only cover for you so much!”

“I didn’t _die_ , in case you hadn’t noticed! And we got _two_ magnets! Why isn’t that what we’re talking about?”

“Because there is no point winning the war if we do not value our soldiers lives! That makes us no better than the Institute.”

“I saved us from the Assaultron!”

“But then you ignored orders and almost had your chest blown wide open!” Danse is seething like Uri has never seen; completely forgetting himself as he throws his arms in the air. “Damnit, Uri! Can’t you see that I’m angry because I _care_? I don’t _want_ you to die! I just want you to share that concern with me - with _us_ ”

“I don’t want to die!” she blinks. He’s talking as though she did it on purpose - with the intention of the Gunner killing her. That’s abhorrent, but Arthur meets Danse’s eyes - and she sees it in him, too. That it’s not necessarily the fact she ignored orders as much as a lack of concern for putting herself in harm’s way. It’s enough to push her over the edge. “If you’re _done_ patronising me, I’m gonna leave you two assholes to sit and talk smack about me to your heart’s content. Enjoy yourselves.”

“We’re not _finished_!” Arthur growls, but she is already yanking the handle. “Knight Sanchez, get _back_ here--!”

The rather loud slam of steel-on-steel silences his command. Uri knows she’s going to be in a shit load of trouble later but, for now, she storms up the stairs towards the showers.

\--

It’s way past dinner when Arthur finally ventures into the Knights bunks. A handful of them are sleeping - least of all Rhys and Jarvis. He is sure Delecroix would be too if not for his extended stay in the Medical bay. The Knights who are awake are too wrapped up in a game of Blast Radius to notice their Elder, so he slinks off to the side - pleased that he left the battle coat in his room.

“Go away,” Uri seethes the second she lays eyes on him. She is perched on her bunk in her vault suit; a clear rebellion against the Prydwen’s dress code. In her hands sit her ruined chest piece, which he had no luxury of examining until now. Seeing the crater where her heart would be has a fresh wave of anger piercing his mind, but he did not become Elder by giving in to his temper.

“I wanted to apologise,” he murmurs, glancing at the others - checking that they are not looking for a show. Uri looks over curiously, then scoffs.

“Stop caring if they hear you. You’re not a God - they _know._ ”

“Stop being a bitch,” he snarls.

So much for 'not giving in to his temper.’ Uri actually looks shocked as, for a moment, hurt crosses her features.

Then she smiles.

“Well, well, well. The great Elder Maxson has a mouth on him, hmm?”

Against all better judgement, Arthur’s _utterly_ tempted by the look in her eyes. Suddenly he has flashes of better ways to solve their dispute… Perhaps not here, but in an abandoned hallway--

“I said go away.”

Or not.

“Uri, we were not gossiping about you like you so clearly believe. I have to ask commanding officers for personal reviews on all the soldiers under their command. As a Knight under Danse’s command, it was protocol.”

“I don’t _care_ about that. I care that you think I want to kill myself. I _don’t._ ”

“I believe you!” He says, but his voice is just a little too high-pitched, and there’s a 'but’ hanging in the air. Uri throws her chest piece at him, and he curses in pain as a rather sharp edge jabs him in the shoulder. Luckily it’s blunt, but it gathers the attention of the others.

“Go to hell, Arthur. I’m sleeping here, tonight.”

Disgruntled, Arthur paces out the room. His grip on the chest piece is so harsh that he almost dents it further.

\--

Their next encounter is during the late afternoon of the following day. Arthur is reading through Ingram’s early notes on the new magnets when Uri creeps into his quarters. He is facing away from the door, but he knows it’s her because no one else has the nerve to enter without his command. A smirk plays at the edge of his lips as he thinks of a clever quip, but a sniff from her has that thought banished. He looks over his shoulder, and the smirk drops too.

Tears stream down her cheeks, though she does not sob. It’s the kind of crying where you fight to catch your breath; where you have to gasp and hiccup your way through it. She doesn’t ask, but she doesn’t need to. Uri pushes her way onto his lap and buries her face in his collar. She smells like ozone and salt. She must have spent her day at the shooting range. They remain sat like that for a while. Arthur strokes her back and occasionally kisses wherever he can reach, whilst Uri sometimes inhales against the fur of his collar.

“I don’t want to die,” she finally hiccups, drawing back so he can look at her properly. “I just - I can’t lose more people. I c-couldn’t lose Danse. If th-that meant I died, then I died.”

“Danse was in power armour--” he wants to say more, but she shakes her head.

“Don’t care. You would have praised anyone e-else for what I did, but because it’s me y-you got mad.”

He wants to argue. He even opens his mouth to do so… But it would be a lie.

“I need you to let me do my job,” she meets his eyes. She is still crying, but there’s a harshness there that forces him to listen. “Because believe it or not, Arthur Maxson, I’m one of the best Knights you’ve got, but if you keep trying to babysit me then _that_ is when I’m going to fuck up. Being Brotherhood means taking risks. You said yourself that lives would be lost. I don’t _want_ to die, but I’m willing to risk it if that means taking the Institute out. Understood?”

“Yes,” he sighs, feeling both terrified and proud at once. This may be the first time he has seen Uri really stand up for something bigger than herself and her personal mission in the Commonwealth… Whilst her meeting with Shaun killed something that day, it awoke a new part of her that he is growing to admire. This part of her takes pride in her work - in the completion of missions, the protection of those around her and her purpose in this new world. She hums in surprise as he kisses her, cupping her cheek in his palm to wipe the tears from her face. It’s such a sweet and simple gesture that she melts.

God, does he drive her crazy. He’s still as desperate for control as he has ever been - but when she reflects on their time together she sees the progress he has made, and it inspires such a horrifying sense of hope that she wants to cry harder. She can’t lose Arthur. She just can’t. Lord knows she can’t handle losing anyone else, but losing _him_ … It would kill her, and she doesn’t want to think about what that means. She can’t afford to. Not when the Institute is an ever-looming threat.

“Have you had word from Ingram?” She mutters, twisting in his lap to peek at his terminal. He just chuckles, then slides his hand from her cheek to her eyes.

“Last I checked, you didn’t have that level of clearance.”

“Spoilsport,” Uri huffs. “Fine. I’ll just work my way up. For now, you need to get ready. We need to be at the Castle for six.”

“What for?” He removes his hand as she turns her head.

“I’m giving my title to Preston, remember? If I’m gonna take out the Institute I need to dedicate my time to the Brotherhood, and _you_ need some help playing the diplomat.”

“Need I remind you that I reunited the Brotherhood with the Outcasts at sixteen?”

“Need I remind _you_ that you flew into the Commonwealth on a huge blimp and declared your mission without considering what those people wanted?”

“... Knights are not supposed to question Elders.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys! I just want to give you fair warning - my updates will slow down from here on out. I will always put my education first & my MA is demanding all my attention. That doesn't mean to say I am abandoning this fic (like i could ever do that!), but it is going to have to come second to all the work I have to do.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I said I'm too busy to update loads - but I originally had this planned to be chapter 2 so I have zero guilt for publishing this instead of heavily focusing on my uni work.

Uri could not be prouder of her crowning jewel of the new Minutemen; the Castle. What had become the shell of a mirelurk nest is now a bustling hub under Minutemen control. Preston had only heard the tales from the soldiers he grew up around; that they once held a Castle from which they protected the Commonwealth virtually unchallenged. Garvey hoped that they could reclaim their headquarters someday. His opportunity to try rolled around in the weeks following Uri’s trip to the Institute.

That is one of the reasons Arthur lost his patience with her, yesterday, and Uri understands why. Grief-stricken and incredibly restless, she had dared to approach Preston about the Castle. He felt it was the perfect time to try and reclaim it, and so a group of thirty soldiers marched on down. Uri ignored Cade’s orders. She was yet to be deemed fit for duty, but she couldn’t sit still. She justified the move by telling herself it was for the Minutemen - not the Brotherhood.

But then the mirelurk queen showed up. A great, ghastly beast like something out of a pre-war fantasy novel. Until then, Uri had never seen anything like it… Hell, it was bigger than two deathclaws _combined!_ When she noticed that it spewed acid she knew she had fucked up. They lost half their team and, after seeing the chaos from his command deck, Arthur dispatched a vertibird to help the Minutemen succeed. No one else died after that, but the queen’s acid _did_ break the vertibird beyond repair. It was then that Uri was ordered to stay aboard the Prydwen; she would only be issues the right to leave when she was cleared for active duty.

She had hated the decision but, in hindsight, she is glad they did it. The weeks following her meeting with Shaun were dark; full of horrible trains of thought that have her wondering whether she would still be alive if not for the Brotherhood. Whilst Uri was stuck on board, Preston got busy. She has not yet visited the Castle since retaking it, but they have set up a comms link with the militia now that their radios are officially up-and-running.

“And now, with thanks to one of our growing recon teams, I’ll play ya a nice bit of Christmas music. This is Radio Freedom! Stay tuned for any Minutemen news throughout the Commonwealth.”

Snowflakes drift down from the thick, grey-white clouds blanketing the skies of Boston’s wasteland. It’s not the first snow of the season, but it definitely looks to be the most troublesome. Uri wonders idly how it will impact progress on Prime. It’s not like they can tuck him away inside; he’s downright huge. It’s when she starts to imagine initiates being ordered to knit him a huge scarf that she snorts. Distracting Arthur from his thoughts.

“What’s so funny?” He murmurs. Danse tilts his head towards them in interest, but Uri shakes her head.

“Just thinking. How’re you feeling, anyway? About doing this?”

“You are the one handing their title away. You tell me.”

“Honestly? It’s a relief. I was never that great a General to begin with, so it’s no biggie. Preston is the Commonwealth's darling, and he’s loyal enough to me that our working relationship will continue well into the future. You’re welcome.”

“Whatever would I do without you?” he muses, grinning wider when she swats his arm.

The courtyard is too small for landings, so they’ve set up a makeshift drop-off zone on the road to the castle’s west. Uri shuts off her radio as the pilot begins to dock. Thank God that, today, it’s not Krellic. She hates taking trips with Arthur when Krellic’s flying. He shoots her knowing looks the whole time, and she's snapped at him more than once to keep his eyes on the sky.

“Greetings, Colonel!” Arthur booms, bringing Uri back to the present. Preston is waiting for them, and he looks rather nervous if Uri does say so herself. He’s wearing his usual duster, though he’s got Uri’s too-big General’s coat in his arms.

“Yes!” She hisses. Once Arthur has shook his hand, Uri gives her friend a quick hug before tugging the coat from his grasp. “It’s _freezing_ \- if this is my last chance to wear it, I’m taking it.”

“Fair enough,” Preston chuckles. “C’mon - Talia’s in the mess hall, heating up mulled wine as we speak.”

“Excellent!” Danse grins, surprising both Arthur and Uri. The duo turn to their friend, who flashes them an innocent look. “Have you ever _had_ mulled wine?”

“Not too much, Paladin--”

“Shut up, Arthur. Danse, drink as much as you like! This is a party, after all.”

Danse glances at Arthur warily. Uri could have be his partner for ten years, and he would still be looking to his Elder for confirmation. Maxson nods once, pursing his lips at Uri, and Danse grins victoriously.

“ _You_ ,” Uri pokes him as the others chatter on ahead of them, “are the biggest hypocrite.”

“How so?”

“Arthur Maxson, I have never seen someone drink as much as you do. Let Danse have a good night. He deserves it!”

“I am a high-functioning alcoholic, Knight Sanchez. Not many men or women can say that. I have to keep an eye on my soldiers.”

“It’s not something to be proud of, moron…” He makes no move to respond, so she snorts. “Whatever. C’mon - I want wine.”

By the Commonwealth's standards, the mess hall is crowded. There must be around thirty Minutemen troops, and Talia’s crew on top of that. She is huddled over a large vat in the centre of the room; continuing to be the only living soul that can get away with barking orders at Ronnie.

“I need more _mugs,_ Shaw! You call yourself a Lieutenant!?"

“I’ll show ya how much a Lieutenant I am in a second, Tal. Rodgers, get yourself down to the cellars and grab the woman some mugs!”

“These kids are _soldiers_ , not _servants_.”

“I always liked testing the boundaries, myself,” Uri butts in, drawing their attention from the playful spat. Ronnie salutes, and Talia smiles.

“General, a delight as always. Would you like some wine?”

“Well, since you offered so nicely,” She winks, “Three, please. Oh-- Have you met Paladin Danse?”

“Hello, sweetheart! Lovely to meet you.”

Talia is a definite oddball, having joined the Minutemen alongside Ronnie Shaw a month and a half ago. She, like her friend, is middle aged, with coffee-coloured skin, an outstanding afro and the kindest eyes Uri has ever seen. She quickly became the maternal figure of the Minutemen, taking it upon herself to cook and tend to wounds when needed.

“I- ah, a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” Danse is blushing at her choice of words, and Uri restrains from telling him how cute it is. He’s never been one for words; especially when those words are affectionate to anything other than the Brotherhood. Uri hides a grin behind her ever-growing hair, which brushes her shoulder as she turns her head.

“How’re things going? Sorry I haven’t visited these past few weeks, I just wanted Preston to take on more of the responsibility before he took over officially.”

“No, I understand. Things are going swimmingly, sweetie pie. I’m sure our General-to-be will have more of a well-rounded update, though.

“I’ll debrief you after the ceremony,” Preston murmurs, with a face tinged pink. Uri nods and places a hand on his shoulder.

“How’re you feeling?”

“I - I’m just nervous, is all. Leading has never been something I thought I was capable of… After Quincy. Well, you know how I felt. I’m just surprised we managed to rebuild… That I manage to, as well.”

“You’ve done some amazing work, Preston. You deserve to give yourself more credit. After today, I just hope you will.”

He merely smiles in response, then takes the mug of mulled wine Talia offers to him. Preston proceeds to check over her shoulder, and Uri too turns to see what’s got his attention. Arthur and Danse are stood at a table packed with children, all of who look enraptured by whatever tale Arthur is spinning for them. Just like that time on the Prydwen with the squires, she feels her heart melt. The Elder’s laughter echoes through the hall as a child - Duncan, from the look of it - gives a well-aimed retort. Uri laughs too; a side-effect of Arthur’s. Preston chuckles from beside her.

“You sure do like him, huh?”

“Shut up,” Uri grumbles, suddenly finding the room much hotter. The Colonel pats her shoulder in false comfort. Something important clearly crosses his mind, as Uri can pinpoint the moment the humour leaves his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I’ve been meaning to ask. About that _thing_ you’re doing that they don’t know about,” Preston looks at her pointedly. She shushes him; forcefully tugging him into the stone-clad corridor outside.

“Don’t bring it up so publicly, moron!” Uri shakes her head, suddenly feeling hyper-aware of the fact that she is _not_ on the Prydwen. “Fine. Whatever. Make it quick.”

“I just wanted to check in. See how you’re doing,” Preston too begins glancing around - Uri is loath to admit their behaviour reminds her of stupid pre-war conspiracy theorists. “Going over all that stuff over-and-over again must be rough. I’m worried, is all. And I want to help.”

“You help by keeping an eye out,” She sighs, softening under his admission. “Thank you, though. There’s not much to be done really - but your intel has been beneficial.”

“That’s a lie and we both know it.”

“I’m still following up on the whole mannequins-are-synths theory, thank you very much.”

“That one was a _joke_.”

“Anything’s possible, Garvey. _Anything_.”

“Yeah, yeah. All joking aside, I still think you’d be better off telling Maxson about it. He has much more manpower than us - plus, those scribes are super smart.”

“I can’t,” Uri sighs. He’s still stood with the kids - Danse looks like he’s going to cry with laughter at whatever debate is going on between Arthur and Duncan, the latter of who paints the perfect picture of indignation. Despite her sadness, she smiles. “I can’t risk that. He’d make it a mission and take me off of it. Plus, he’s paranoid enough about every synth being the damn equivalent to a mini nuke… It’d just mess everything up. He’s got enough to worry about, and I want to be in on this.”

“Alright,” Preston shrugs, though he looks unconvinced. “I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry. I’ll keep sending you updates - _if_ I actually get any.”

It feels great to know that she has, by some miracle, been able to bring the Brotherhood and Minutemen together. Even if it results in Preston lecturing her on actually speaking to the Elder. They are by no means aligned when it comes to political ideologies, but they are combining forces to produce results. Uri thinks of the new bar back at the airport, and how many soldiers have caught her aboard the Prydwen to thank her for it. Yeah, they haven’t done anything majorly important - but they’re changing lives and, so far, that seems to have been for the better.

They hold the ceremony in the courtyard, where the snow has formed a thin layer on the icy flagstones. People cling to each other as they slip and slide around the radio tower, which they use as refuge from the snow - but also to broadcast the event across the Commonwealth. It doesn’t last long. Soon, Preston is officially the General, and Uri makes a show of battling Arthur’s decorum to wrap her arms around his waist - making sure they are _inside_ his battle coat to fend off the cold. As the drinks continue to flow and Sheffield carries on pumping out the festive tunes, the icy temperatures are all but forgotten.

Uri cannot remember when she last saw her commanding officers truly enjoy themselves. Kells would have a field day if he saw how drunk Danse had managed to get himself but, for now, they don’t need to worry about that. They have this one night - just one opportunity to let their hair down, have a little fun, shirk their responsibilities. Naturally, Arthur is as high-functioning as ever. The only time Uri has actually seen him lose to alcohol was on the anniversary of Sarah’s death, so it’s hardly surprising. They had to get Danse out his power armour well over an hour ago just to avoid an accidental death; and Uri is pleasantly tipsy. Just past the point of holding a solid train of thought, but conscious enough to keep herself together should the need arise.

“Come on,” Arthur urges. They are back in the mess hall, sat where the children had been before they were ordered to their dorms. Preston and Danse are in a jovial debate involving laser weapons - a debate that is so amusing that a range of minutemen have gathered around to listen in - so the Elder uses the opportunity to sweep his Knight away. She takes his hand and allows him to lead her out the room and up an old flight of stairs. It’s dark enough for her to need her Pip-Boy light to guide them, but they are soon sat on one of the benches brought up onto the castle’s walls. They just so happen to be positioned facing the Prydwen. Typical.

“She’s beautiful, from below,” Arthur sighs; messing with the blanket he had grabbed on the way up. It is frayed and full of holes, but she accepts it gratefully.

“I still can’t believe you managed to build something like that,” Uri admits. As much as she enjoys a good joke about the Prydwen being Arthur’s way of playing alpha-male, it really is impressive. Somehow managing to look much more formidable than usual against the black-grey clouds and ever-falling snow.

She wouldn’t call it beautiful, though. That’s a word she finds herself using less frequently, these days. No. What’s beautiful is the Elder sat beside her - grey-blue eyes twinkling with wonder as he gazes out at the airship. Snowflakes sticking to his slicked-back hair, his beard, the wool collar of his coat. There’s that smile, too. The one that almost makes her forget that he has seen hardship far beyond her wildest dreams - which is an amazing feat, considering Uri’s dire luck. She raises a hand to his cheek, guiding his eyes away from the Prydwen.

“Stare at her any longer and I might just get jealous,” she breathes. His smile becomes a smirk, and then he’s leaning in to press a hard, meaningful kiss against her lips. The hand at her waist becomes firm as he pulls her against him - tucking both of them into that blanket of hers.

“Now, now. No need for jealousy. You’ll always be my favourite.”

“I’ll pretend to believe you,” Uri sighs. She wants to say something quick. She’s usually full of wit and sarcasm… But, as of late, she’s found it far and few between when it’s just the two of them. No. Her heart skips. She feels less inclined to pick at him; mock the salutes and titles. It’s slowly being encompassed by a huge wave of warmth. All Uri can think to compare it to is how a religious man feels when he’s sat in church, minus the devotion.

She refuses to put a name to it, but she’ll bask in it nonetheless.

“What time do we need to be back?” the Knight questions, resting her head between his collar and chin.

“Eleven-hundred hours,” He murmurs. God, he sounds relaxed. They can hear the waves crashing against shore, from here. Mixed with the raucous chatter and music from below. Uri’s not sure how long they stay there, but she must have been falling asleep. Arthur eventually shifts, rattling her from her daze. “Come, we’re going to freeze if we stay out here much longer.”

“Roger that,” she nods.  

They return to what must be an immensely odd debate, judging by the bewildered expressions and amused snorts emanating from Danse and Preston’s crowd. From the flush coating Danse’s cheeks, he has clearly had too much to drink. When he speaks, his voice is loud and boisterous.

“How can you not _see it_? There are _no_ cats in the Capital Wasteland. I _know._ I’m from there!”

“That doesn’t mean to say that every cat is a synth, Paladin! We don’t even know if they can make animal synths!”

“'Course they can. I have read history books. Before the war, people’d always test on animals before people!”

Everyone’s laughing - even Arthur, who’s shaking his head in disbelief. But Uri feels her blood go cold. Has she ever noticed cats in areas she’s been? There’s Quinlan’s, of course. Sat with the archives. Could he really be--?

“Sanchez!” Talia calls, snapping her out her thoughts. The woman looks bemused by the noisy Paladin. “Go get some clean mugs, would you? And take these down with ya.”

“Sure,” she nods. Arthur barely pays attention to her slipping her hand out of his. Trying not to look too out of it, Uri grasps the handles of Talia’s crate and heads over to the armoury - the nearest stairwell to their designated dish-washing area. Usually they’d have a couple of folks on duty, but tonight has been reserved for the celebrations.

As she dumps the ceramics into a bath-turned-basin, Uri thinks back to Danse’s cat theory. Ingram said that the Brotherhood have a force field of sorts - blocking anyone from teleporting in and out of the Prydwen; or even too close to the airport… But she never said anything about it keeping synths _out_. If that’s the case, then a synth could fly up on a vertibird and dock the ship just like any other, human crew member. But that means--

A crack of lightning has Uri shrieking, but before she can turn around strong arms are grasping her by the wrists. She has a combat knife strapped to her leg; her attacker notices. He tears the holster off like it’s nothing more than paper, and she hears it clatter somewhere to the west.

“Get _off_ me!”

“I am afraid I cannot, not until I have relayed my message.”

Their voice… The Knight is instantly transported back to Greentech. Her suspicions are confirmed when he finally spins her around. With her back against the wall, Uri looks up at the courser - taking in his familiar uniform; the cold monotone of his voice.

And… his face. Goddamn. This synth is  _gorgeous_ _._

“I have been sent by Father to warn you against pursuing your current _interests_ involving the Institute. He has let you live out of kindness, but does not approve of your attempts to meddle with our mission.”

“He made _you_?” She gapes, “and, out of every courser, you’re supposed to intimidate me?”

His grip tightens on her wrists, and Uri becomes _very_ aware of the fact that he could probably snap them without much effort. She should be scared. Should do her best to run; instead, she forces her eyes to brighten.

“Beauty _and_ brawn, hmm? I could put that to good use.”

“Stop it,” he hisses. His lips press into a scowl, but she can just make out the blush on his dark cheeks. Her flirting is doing exactly what she wants it to do by making him uncomfortable.

“Can I catch your name at the very least?”

“Ex-six eighty-eight is my designated number,” he growls, “and you would do well to pay attention to my warning. You have fought one of my brothers before and lived to tell the tale, but your precious Elder will not _always_ be around for protection.”

“Fuck you,” She snarls, forgetting herself. She can’t see his eyes behind the patrolman shades, but she suspects they are full of amusement.

“Have I hit a moot point, ma’am? Even if I went up against the Elder, you know he would lose. His gatling weapon is clearly overcompensating for size as well as skill.”

“Jesus,” she shakes her head, “even coursers are getting those jokes in now? Whatever, roboman. I’ve heard you loud and clear - whether I listen or not will have to be seen. Now, let me _go_.”

“I do hope you heed my words,” he releases her wrists and, before she can say anything else, he disappears in a spark of light so bright that Uri has to take a moment to blink the spots from her vision. She doesn’t give herself time to dwell on what just happened - with trembling hands, the Knight grabs a crate of clean mugs and heads upstairs.

She feels alien as she returns to the mess hall. Everyone is still laughing; dancing and chatting merrily, drinking their fill of wine while they have the chance. Uri takes a seat beside Arthur, forcing laughter on key and pretending to listen to the conversations going on around her. But she feels too dissociated to keep it up for long. As though he’s read her mind, Arthur tugs on her sleeve.

“Come along, Uri. Our vertibird should arrive at any moment.”

“But I thought you’d scheduled it for--”

“You don’t seem overly keen on spending the entire night down here,” he glances over his shoulder, “Besides, our favourite Paladin needs taking _away_ from the wine sooner rather than later. You get his power armour and I shall manoeuvre him safely aboard.”

She wishes she could warn Preston, but there’s too many people around them for that. All she can manage is a quick hug before he’s being swept back into the crowd, and then he’s no more. Her time with the Minutemen is no more… Damn Institute, ruining her final night with her friends. This was supposed to be a day off; now, she’s jumping at every sudden clang and bouncing on the balls of her feet. Going back to the Prydwen should be reassuring, but Danse has her feeling paranoid with his stupid, drunken cat theory. There’s only one good thing that came out of X6’s surprise visit - and that’s proof. Proof that they really are watching her; _spying_ on her. 

Goddamnit, she needs to know how they’re doing it and she needs to know _now_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like this chapter was boring, hope it wasn't for you guys though! If it was, don't worry, things start getting interesting from here on out.


	4. Lies

Arthur collapses into his desk chair feeling positively worn out. He had expected the celebrations to be relaxing, but has found them anything but. Of course, he enjoyed himself, but keeping up a kind face to the locals has taken more out of him than one would expect. A shower has helped ease some tension; but he still has reports to sign off before he can so much as think about sleep.

“Hey, Elder! I got a surprise for you!” Uri distracts him almost immediately. What a surprise… With a grunt he heads to the door; where she is stood carrying a tray piled with food. Tired eyes immediately brighten.

“However could I resist?” he drawls, which draws a chortle from the guard.

“Before you start those reports you need to eat. I’m getting a shower, so you best save me some mashed ‘tato or I _swear_ I’ll end the Maxson dynasty here and now.” 

“Duly noted.”

 The Prydwen’s food is usually terrible but, with Garvey’s help, they have been able to establish actual, functional trade routes. In return for simple laser turrets, the Brotherhood now have fresh meats, fruits and vegetables to actually feed their small army. It has certainly boosted morale - Arthur feels that now as he sits loading his plate with smooth mash, freshly boiled carrots, roasted radstag and a generous helping of corn. By the time Uri’s finished with her shower, he has almost finished. 

“I’ll never be over how much better food quality is,” she sighs, “we have the Cabot’s to thank. Their tips for dealing with settlers have saved my palette a number of times.”

“God bless the Cabots,” Arthur toasts with the remnants of his whiskey. Uri taps her water to his glass. “So, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow? Now that you are free of your General duties?”

“Honestly? I am tempted to go and see Quinlan. I _know_ \- you don’t need to give me that look - but I’m curious about these archives of his. _And_ he is super smart; maybe his huge brain will rub off on me.”

“Doubtful,” Arthur smirks, “Besides, your education is far more extensive than anyone on board.”

“Not likely! I barely made it to graduation. Everything went in one ear and out the other - it's not like I expected atomic annihilation to make me realise my long list of high school fuck-ups,” Uri glares at her food. “I wish I’d gone to college, or done something useful like construction. Instead, I wasted my time scraping by until the weekend. Stupid, stupid Uri…”

“I thought the threat of atomic annihilation was glaringly obvious?" 

“Yeah, but when you’re living in luxury you fool yourself into thinking it will never end.” She pauses to chew her food, then adds: “this is America! Nothing bad _ever_ happens here!”

Arthur merely snorts. He can’t pretend to understand such ignorant logic, but he can sneer at its ridiculousness.

“You’d have done it to, believe me. I bet you’d have been one of those assholes who couldn’t wait to do their duty for our great nation.”

“This is a personal attack that I will not stand for--”

“You’d have army posters all over your bedroom-- wait, no, your ancestors were literally top army guys. Oh my God,” She starts laughing, “you’d’ve been an army suck-up.”

“Leave me be,” he mutters, but his lips twitch as he fights back a grin of his own.

“So - stop judging me for my stupid past, 'cause everyone here would’ve been the same. The only people who saw the damn war coming was conspiracy theorists - and they hardly managed to get to their useless bunkers in time, never mind save the world. Even Vault Tec didn’t actually expect it.”

“Really?” his brow furrows as he wipes his mouth. “What was the point in the vaults-- oh,” he pauses, realisation dawning on him. “They just wanted to carry out their experiments.”

“And make money… Evil bastards.”

“If there’s anything we can all agree on, it’s that.”

The Elder returns to his terminal, allowing Uri the luxury of keeping Diamond City Radio on low as she finishes her food. Oddly, the quiet hum of music along with the dimmed noise of the workings of his airship help with his concentration. Such bliss lasts all of an hour; the words before him soon begin to blur, and he finds himself reading the same paragraph three times before finally giving up.

Uri is lounging on their bed. She had been reading, but the book is pressed against her stomach; head tilted uncomfortably to one side as she sleeps. Never has his knight looked so at peace. Very unlike how she seemed at the Castle, now that he compares the two. Carefully, Arthur flicks off the radio and unclasps the Pip-Boy from Uri’s arm… And that's when he notices the marks on her wrists.

Not even the olive tone of her skin can mask it. They are splotchy and red; but Arthur instantly knows they’re fingerprints. Too big to be her own… But how? When was she-- oh. The mugs. When Talia sent her down to the basement she was happy as could be, but when she returned… He knew something was off. Was it _this?_  

“Uri?” He clasps her shoulder and shakes her awake. He anticipates a bleary-eyed insult, or to be pushed away in favour of the soft furnishings beneath her. Instead, a small hand encircles his throat; and Uri’s eyes are far from bleary. “Uri, it’s just me,” She is _afraid._ Many a time he has awoke her in such a way, but never has she responded like this. Her gaze is alert; she is wide awake in an instance. 

“Jesus,” she gasps. Her fingers barely cover the width of his throat, so no damage was done, but she still recoils in horror. Oddly, Arthur doesn’t seem angry. His stormy eyes are brimming with concern.

“Uri, what happened in those cellars?”

“What?” She appears confused until she follows his eyes to her wrists… Of course, they’re still sore, but she hadn’t anticipated any markings. “God damnit.”

“Uri, _who did this_?”

“I… It’s nothing, Arthur. Calm down.”

“Nothing? Do you sincerely expect me to believe that?” 

“Yes…” His eyes narrow, so Uri folds her arms to hide her wrists. “Just drop it.” 

“If someone is hurting you--”

“No one is _hurting me_. Jeez, do you-- do you think someone is _abusing_ me or something?”

“If they _are_ I would very much like to think you would tell me!”

“Good job they’re _not_ , then!”

“Tell me where they came from, Knight. _That_ is an order!”

It’s out before he can stop himself. Arthur regrets his words immediately, but sets his expression into his commanding glare nonetheless. She has left him no choice, after all. He can’t just let this go. Someone has hurt her, and he needs to know _who_ and _why_.

Out of every response he expected, laughter was not one of them. It's brittle and angry, but still laced with humour.

“Are you _kidding_ me? You’re that much of a brat that you’d pull rank?”

“I thought we were _honest_ with one another, Uri. You would react the same way in my position!”

“No, I _wouldn’t_ , because I’ve never been able to get whatever I want with the snap of my fingers!” She pushes herself off the bed; snatching up her Pip-Boy as she goes. Usually, he would let her go. As Elder, the last thing he needs is to cause a scene.

But this time he can't. He follows her out, ignoring the guard’s startled expression as he storms passed them.

“Fuck off, _Elder_.”

“Stand down!”

“Oh God,” She stops, spinning to face him. Her amber eyes are hard with fury as her fist clenches around her Pip-Boy. “Give me _one more order_ , and I will leave this stupid airship _right now_.”

“That’s so _you_ ,” Arthur laughs, pacing the short expanse of the hall they’re inhabiting. “As soon as you don’t like something you run away - it’s _extremely_ tiring, you know? You stand there and claim I am childish, yet the second something does not go your way - off you flee!”

“ _Fuck you_ ,” she seethes; though her voice gives way to hurt. “Leave me alone! I just - just want to sleep, alright? Go back to your quarters and bathe in all your glory, or whatever it is you did before I was around.”

“What is going _on_ out here?”

Uri and Arthur turn to Ingram, who looks as though she wants to bang their heads together. A number of personnel are peering around her suit; sleep-riddled and curious at the fight between them. Arthur is far too stubborn to turn away now, but Uri uses the opportunity to shove passed them - presumably to run to the bunks.

“Elder, a _word_?”

“Not necessary, Proctor Ingram.” 

“Oh, it’s _very_ fucking necessary!”

The way she hisses her words - quiet enough for the others to miss, but icy enough to remind him of his training - suddenly has him forgetting his rank. He finally nods, and gestures for her to follow him back to his room.

“ _Dismissed_ , soldiers!”

Ingram’s bark soon has their audience scattering, and Arthur finds himself yet again wondering how she had never been elected as Elder during the Brotherhood’s chaotic post-Sarah, pre-Maxson years.

“You best have a _damn good_ explanation for what just happened out there, Arthur Maxson, or so help me God I’ll get the High Elders on your case faster than you can say steel!”

“Uri is _hurt,_ and she refuses to explain what happened! She has bruises in the shape of hand prints on her wrists, Ingram. Bruises that were not present before tonight!”

“Right,” she sighs, shoulders slumping slightly as her gaze lingers on his expression. Ingram’s innate ability to read him is usually frustrating, but he finds he quite appreciates it right now. “Alright, I see your point. But making a scene in front of your soldiers? _Bad_ move.”

“That’s unimportant right now! If someone is hurting Uri, then we need to figure out why that is - and _who_ dares to even try!”

“We will, Arthur…” Her expression suddenly shifts to exasperated. “Damnit, tell me you didn’t order her to tell you!”

“I… may have acted on impulse.” 

“You’re a real nightmare sometimes, you know?” 

He wants to defend his actions, but every conceivable argument sounds incredibly childish - even to himself. 

“Get some sleep. Tomorrow, you can apologise for being an idiot - if she refuses to do the same then _I’ll_ deal with her.” 

“Alright…” He grinds his teeth, and forces out a quick “thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” She snorts, “there’s still your public fuck-up to fix. Goodnight, Arthur.”

\--

“There you are.”

Delecroix lets out a grunt as he plants himself beside Uri. She should have known he’d be the one to come and find her. There’s no way to actually test people in this dead world, but Uri is confident he is on the spectrum to some degree. It becomes that much more apparent when he pulls stunts like this; most people just know that Uri wants to be on her own right now, but every non-verbal sign seems to have flown over his head.

“Here I am,” she murmurs. Uri has been out on the foredeck since breakfast; sat with her legs dangling off the Prydwen, gazing out at the Commonwealth below. 

“Why’re you out here, anyway? A bunch of us are planning a feral hunt, if you’re in?”

“I’m good, but thanks.”

Uri feels him watching her, but she ignores it. Her bruises had been purple when she woke this morning. A quick trip to Cade soon fixed that. She managed to get there earlier than the nightly patrols; nightmares of clinical walls and the ghost with Nora’s eyes saw to that.

“Alright, then,” Del stands - finally taking the hint. “I’ll see you later on, Sanchez.”

“Enjoy,” She calls, forcing a smile. It’s entirely to reassure him. As soon as he’s gone she allows it to melt from her face.

Arthur’s words keep playing through her mind. She’s not even mad with him. Sure, he tried to order her around, but she can understand where he was coming from. She’s confident she would be just as infuriating if their roles were reversed; only she’d do it differently. No… It’s his comment about running away that got to her. Mainly because he’s right, but also because he has never called her out like that before. She’s not used to it. 

He has come a long way from being that snappy Elder she’d met when they first boarded the Prydwen, and yet Uri feels stuck. He has grown; allowed himself to knock down some of those harsh, cold walls. Opened up to her, helped her, kept her safe… Sometimes his actions have been detrimental to the Brotherhood’s cause - he has risked his position as Elder more than once. And what has she given him in return…?

She’s been a damn hindrance. Sure, she saved his life, but what good has she done for the Brotherhood since getting here? She wastes their time, their resources. Heads off on selfish, wild goose chases for a brother who doesn’t love her, then sucks up precious fuel resources because she can’t face the penalty for failure. Even now she’s doing it. Sat out here, letting herself cry when there’s a war to be fought. If she had just got her act together when Shaun told her about his life in the Institute… She could have wrapped them around her little finger. This could have all been over by now - she’s sure of it. 

What use is she to anybody? She’s just a stupid, pre-war vault-dweller who can’t get anything right. It’s any wonder someone like Arthur sees _anything_ in her. She laughs mirthlessly; scrubbing away the wetness from her eyes. Despite it all, all she wants to do is run. Maybe Virgil will give her some pointers on turning into a…

Oh, God.

 _Virgil._  

She was supposed to get the serum for him. What will come of him now? Has he lost his mind yet? Is he still expecting her to show up? Why would she promise anyone anything? What was she _thinking?_ She clamps her hand over her mouth to muffle her sobs. Uri promised she’d help him. She promised; and now she’s failed him, too.

\-- 

“Nah-ah,” Ingram lays a large, metal palm on Arthur’s chest. “Not today.”

“Ingram, I am here for a status report--”

“Bullshit. You’re here to give Scara a mouthful. She doesn’t need it, Arthur. She’s busy trying to get a damn robot moving again. Get back to the Prydwen and find Uri.”

“I will once I have an update.” 

The grey clouds overhead feel dark and heavy; plunging the Commonwealth into a suffocating humidity that just doesn’t want to budge. All of yesterday’s snow has melted away - Arthur finds himself unclasping the collar of his suit as he paces through the ancient airport, hoping it will fend off the stifling heat. 

“Professor,” He calls, offering a minor, old-world salute as he takes the platform’s stairs two at a time. Scara’s expression darkens once she sees him, but the scientists nods politely all the same. “Status report, please?”

“There’s _really_ not much to add to the report I sent you yesterday. I am working on getting his new limbs moving as they should; that’s going to take time and, as you so enjoy reminding me, I am _not_ Doctor Li.”

“I’m starting to suspect you’re biding time,” He growls. “This is taking far longer than any of my scribes calculated - are you lying to me, Professor?”

“No offence, _Sir_ , but why the hell would I? I’ve been treated with disdain since I first got here so, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you left me to get on with my work!”

“Speak to me like that _one more time_ and I’ll--”

“Elder Maxson!” Ingram hisses. Ah, so she finally caught up. “I feel it is my duty to remind you that Professor Scara is here as a volunteer; she is _not_ a soldier of the Brotherhood, therefore you have no authority over her _or_ any punishments that may be administered for insubordination. _Now_ , I think it’s best you went back to the Prydwen.”

“Proctor Ingram, if you continue to--” 

“Arthur! What’re you _doing?_ ”

Arthur falters as his eyes fall upon Uri. He hadn’t expected her down at the airport today - she only came down to clear her head. Ease off some of the guilt threatening to consume her. Seeing him here - angry over how little progress they’ve made on prime - has done absolutely nothing to satiate the ache in her chest.

“Knight Sanchez--” 

“I’m going to get brought up on charges in a minute!” Ingram’s snarl stops him in his tracks. “Arthur, _please_ go speak to Uri. Scara, everyone else - get your asses back to work, ‘cause my patience is wearing thin and I _really_ don’t want locking up for breaking one of your jaws!”

The soldiers around them scramble to their work stations; much like they had aboard the Prydwen. _Damn_ Ingram and her level-head. Damn her. The Elder is unflexing his fists when he turns to Uri, who is still stood in the entryway - her eyes are red. She’s been crying recently… Upon noticing this, the ferocity of his temper cools. He heads on over; hating the guilt that squirms in his gut.

“Shall we go somewhere quiet?” 

“Probably a good idea…” Uri pauses to glance at Ingram. “C’mon, let’s sit on the old runway. No one ever goes there.”


	5. Trust

“I want to start out by apologising, Uri. How I reacted yesterday… It was unacceptable.”

They are stood by the derelict shell of an old airplane; watching the sea gently lap at crumbling walls of what was once Boston Airport’s runway. Fighting off old-world memories doesn’t help Uri’s current head state. She shakes her head, sighing shakily.

“No. Arthur, you had a right to be angry. How you approached the whole thing was shitty, but…” Amber eyes glance upwards, finally meeting his. She looks exhausted. “Well, truth is, I didn’t exactly want to say anything because you’re not being honest with _me_.”

“What are you referring to?” The Elder’s brow furrows.

“Liberty Prime. The professor. You said you were okay with my mission failure in the Institute, but I see it in the way you treat Scara. You’re mad at me but you’re scared of showing me that, so you take it out on her.”

At this, Arthur pauses. He wants to deny it, of course… But maybe Uri has a point. Upon first hearing of the mission failure, all he had wanted was to find her; afterwards came disappointment. A spark of anger burning in the back of his mind. The tactician within had spent countless hours kicking him for his decision to send Uri in - of _course_ she was doomed to fail. Letting a Knight with such close, emotional ties to the faction infiltrate them was a foolish risk to take. It has cost them precious time, knowledge and resources.

He bites back an agitated sigh.

“Uri, it wasn’t your fault. How were you to know that their leader was the very child you spent all those months searching for? It would have been downright evil of me to take my frustrations out on you.”

“Yeah, but now you’re taking them out on someone who isn’t to blame!” She huffs, “If I didn’t fuck it up, then we wouldn’t be in this mess. Anyway, having you direct that anger at someone else isn’t helping. At the same time, I don’t want to use it as an excuse. I…” She looks down at the cracked road she is scuffing with the toe of her boots, “I’m not gonna tell you what happened down there, because I want to figure it out for myself. But I will tell you this much - it’s important, and I think it’s best I get away from the airport to do it.”

“You want to leave?”

“No,” she throws him an exasperated scowl, “I want to head out on a mission of my own.”

“You realise that what you’re asking for is ridiculous, correct? You want me to grant you leave without telling me - the Elder - what this mission is for?”

“You’ve got enough to be worrying about without this on your shoulders, Arthur.”

“So you think that leaving me to catastrophise will be more beneficial than _not telling me_?”

“Damnit,” she curses. He does have a point… But, as paranoid as he is, Arthur is yet to realise that the Institute has eyes and ears everywhere. If he knew already then he wouldn’t spend a minute in peace. It would kill him. His eyes burn with the intensity of his curiosity, but Uri shakes her head. “I need you to trust me, Arthur. After failing, I may not deserve it… But as your girlfriend, I’m asking you to let me handle this. I _swear_ I wouldn’t be so secretive if I really didn’t think it was for the best.”

Now, there’s an interesting thought. Trust her. He wants to snort at that. Does she not understand what she has done to him? He has trusted her with his life. He continues to trust her with a side of himself that he does not offer up to _anyone_ else…But to trust her with this? A pre-war vault dweller, with destroying the Institute? Yes, she has survived when it seemed absolutely impossible; but she is no leader. Her title as ex-General is testament to that.

“I trust you, Uri, but as Elder I have to look out for the wellbeing of my soldiers - I am not confident that undertaking this… task… that they will be safe.”

Real smooth, Arthur. _You sure you were the diplomat to reunite this chapter?_

“I know,” her shoulders slump, “I can’t promise they would be, but I’m pretty sure none of them came to the Commonwealth for a big ol’ bowl of safe keeping. From what I’ve gathered - that’s not something you can ever guarantee. _Especially_ in the Brotherhood.”

He pauses. That’s an excellent point…

“If I were to agree to this, what would happen?”

“I’d go off to do necessary recon. Ideally with a couple other soldiers for help and added protection, starting in DC - I want to take Piper and Valentine with me.”

Valentine. He recognises that name - she had gone to visit him when they stopped off in Diamond City. The detective. Piper, on the other hand, is a name he does not recognise.

“How long will you be gone?”

“I… don’t know,” amber eyes flash with sorrow. “I just know that I _have_ to do this no matter how long it takes. I want to bring Delecroix and Friar with me - but if they’re needed back at the Prydwen, I have no issues with sending them back. I have my Pip-Boy if you need to get in touch, and a healthy amount of vertibird grenades cushion the bottom of my pack.”

Arthur cannot believe that he is actually considering this. Trusting a knight to take charge of a recon mission despite the fact that she will give him no information on _why_ it’s so important. Stormy eyes turn to the sea - watching the current ripple and retreat as he weighs out the pros and cons. Uri never wanted a leadership role - she just wanted to find Shaun. She gave up her position as General. It wasn’t stripped from her. The Minutemen still believed her to be capable, and yet she refused. She did that because she felt she could be put to better use elsewhere… In the Brotherhood; joining the fight to take down the Institute. No one can argue that she has not been a vital addition to their cause. Without Uri, not only would their Elder be lost to the Commonwealth, but they would never have got into the Institute in the first place. Never known to kill a courser for their chip… Yes, Uri’s failure _inside_ the Institute has cost them time… But they would be much further behind in their mission without the help she has already offered.

“Alright,” He mutters, running a hand through his slicked back hair. Defeated by logic. “I’ll allow Friar and Delecroix leave from their duties. You’ll have to fill out any and all necessary forms with Quinlan, but if you gather your soldiers and work through that for the rest of the day - you should be ready to go come morning.”

Uri takes his face in hand and kisses him - softly, gently, full of appreciation. She understands how difficult this is for him. He is so obsessed with control: to have him trust her _this_ much makes her heart swell. When she pulls back, she meets his eyes.

“I’m going to make you proud, Elder. You won’t regret this.”

God, he hopes she’s right.

\--

“Honestly, Nate. _Why_ am I here when I could be at Slocum?”

“To give me peace of mind,” he reminds her, stocking the 10mm pistol and clicking the revolver back into place.

It’s a beautiful day. The sun beams down from overhead, and there’s no cloud in sight. It’s early spring, and the trees are starting to bud again; the despair of winter melts away into a time of rebirth and renewal. Nate was discharged a week ago - and the PTSD flare-up that ensued has made him more paranoid than ever. Uri humours him by taking the pistol; it’s weight feels foreign in her hands. Like it will never belong.

“I’m just a weak-ass girl with a partying problem. I’m _never_ gonna need to use a gun.”

“Please, Uri - you don’t _know_ that. Knowing you can shoot straight will be enough for me. Now, put on those noise cancellers and step up to the range.”

\--

All Uri had wanted, that day, was to head out and meet her friends. If only she had known that one time on the shooting range would tip the balance to life rather than death later on. Once again, she finds herself thanking her lucky stars that she met Nathaniel Jones. It wasn’t until after the war that Uri discovered her uncle’s 10mm: he was never going to teach her to shoot. Hell, he didn’t believe in women handling weapons of any kind. _Well, look at me now._

Uri’s melancholy continues as the vertibird carries them to their drop-off point. The square outside DC is small, but their makeshift rope ladder should get the trio low enough to save their pilot from having to land.

“I’ve never been to Diamond City before,” Alice admits. She’s sat beside Uri; legs dangling from the steel bird, fearlessly kicking as she surveys the ever-changing scenery below.

“Are you _kidding_?” Uri gapes, “Well, we’re gonna have to stop for some noodles before we head off. You’ll love it, Al.”

“Professor Scara always has nice things to say about it. She told me it’s the safest place in the Commonwealth! Sounds like they’ve put a lot of time into making it inhabitable.”

“The Prydwen is _way_ safer,” Del butts in. He’s manning the minigun; a dull job with how uneventful their trip has been thus far. “I went to DC one time. It was pretty cool - that mouthy Bobrov brother is great fun. Wouldn’t call it safe, though. They’re paranoid as hell. Synths could be anywhere.”

Del’s words set off a bout of unease. She had been hoping he and Alice would be part of the Brotherhood that didn’t care so much about synths. Sadly, Uri knows that they need Valentine - yet another reason she was so unwilling to tell Arthur her plan in any detail. She has worked hard to keep the detective’s 'condition’ from the Elder… Hopefully, she will be able to talk her siblings-in-arms down before they can do anything stupid.

“... definitely better than home, though,” Del continues. “You think the gap between rich and poor is bad here - you should see it back home.”

“Where _is_ home to you?” Asks Uri. She feels a guilty pang as she realises - she has never actually asked him about his life before.

“Home is where my parents are,” the knight smiles, “They’re living in Rivet City. But we’re actually from New Vegas.”

“Wait-- New Vegas? Why _new_?”

“That’s a long ass story, Sanchez. Anyway, I’m from a city called Freeside - it surrounds the Vegas strip. Kept us poor folk from getting anywhere near the riches inside.”

“I always wanted to to to Vegas,” Uri sighs - her fond tone at odds with Delecroix’s disdain. “It was amazing, back in the day. All lit up, full of sin and riches and _fun_.”

“It lights up the Mojave wastes today,” Del snorts, “Though you’ve got a bad case of old world blues if you’re still wanting to pay a visit. It’s only fun if you can afford a passport - and nothin’ but trouble.”

“Here we are!” The pilot calls. Uri and Alice lower the rope ladder, and the trio holler their thanks as they descend into the midst of the Commonwealth. The guards are weary - weapons drawn, safety off - but when they recognise Uri, the men visibly relax.

“Sorry for the scare, guys - it’s just me and a couple others.”

“Brotherhood seem alright enough,” the one Uri assumes is in charge nods curtly. “Alright - head on in. But no trouble.”

“Is that sportswear armour?” Del chuckles; voice low as they ascend the all-too-familiar steps. “We had a group back home who used to use that, too. They were _much_ more intimidating than this sorry lot, though.”

“Play nicely,” Alice chides - but her disapproving glare is soon replaced by wonder as she gets her first look at the huge patchwork settlement.

“Welcome to Diamond City,” Uri booms; arms thrown out dramatically, “the great, green jewel of the Commonwealth.”

“How did they _do_ this?” Alice balks.

“I was asleep for most of it,” Uri reminds her; the scribe immediately becomes sheepish. “Back in my time, this was a baseball field. Would you believe - where all these buildings are used to be a huge expanse of green grass?”

“I’ll give them their due - this place is pretty amazing.”

“I’m sure they’d appreciate it,” Uri pauses as they reach the last step. “Stick with me - as much as I’d love to show you around, we need to keep moving. I promised noodles, but after that we’re headed out again.”

“I do wish you’d quit with the secrecy,” Del mutters.

“Yeah, well, when I’ve explained everything you’ll appreciate my air of mystery.”

Both knight and scribe snort at that, but Uri elects to ignore them - having already approached Nat at the newsstand.

“Hey, it’s you! D’you want Piper - or are you here for a paper? Today’s story is on--”

“No thanks to the paper, sweetie. I’m here for Piper.”

“Oh - alright then. Head on in.”

 _Publick Occurrences_ is a narrow, well-kept homestead, if you excuse the printing press and various papers scattered about the area. They enter through the small sitting area, so Uri gestures to her friends to wait as she makes her way to the makeshift stairs.

“Hey, Pipes?”

“Is that who I think it is?”

A grinning head of jet-black hair, minus the newscap, peers down from the floor above.

“Blue!”

“Hey, you decent? I have a couple friends I want you to meet - and a huge favour to ask.”

“Sure, sure. Give me a sec! Make yourself comfortable.”

Uri plops down on the worn couch, but Del and Alice stay standing. They're both to attention.

“At ease, soldiers,” the vault dweller scolds, “You’re not reporting in, for God’s sake. People in the wasteland don’t like the whole robotic military thing. Just be yourselves.”

They have somewhat relaxed by the time Piper joins them - much to Uri’s relief. The reporter adorns her usual red coat, cap and that suspicious look she wears whenever she is faced with strangers.

“Brotherhood?” Piper directs at Uri, though her gaze remains on the scribe and knight. Del holds out a hand with an easy smile.

“Yessir. I’m Knight Delecroix, and this is Scribe Friar--”

“You can call them Del and Alice, though,” Uri beams apologetically, ignoring their glares. “They’re good people, I promise - just, don’t bombard them with questions. The favour I’m asking for is a secret. _No_ printing allowed until my say so.”

“You gonna fill me in, then?”

“I am…” Uri shuffles her weight from foot to foot. Damn, it’s hard to know what she should and shouldn’t say. “I can’t here though. I know it’s a lot to ask - but I have to wait until we get to vault eighty-one.”

“ _E_ _ighty-one_?” Piper blinks, arms folded. “What the hell do you want with them?”

“Nothing, exactly. Just… Please, Piper. I need you to trust me - it’s about taking down the boogeymen.”

“Oh,” the tension leaves the reporter’s stance, and she smiles. “Well, why didn’t you say that to start with? I’m in, though it better be damn good - and printable in the foreseeable future.”

“Trust me, it will be. I want this all over the Commonwealth - just, not yet.”

Piper has to pack and say bye to Nat, so they bid her a temporary farewell before heading deeper into the city. Mouths water as they near Takahashi's; and Uri all but pries Del to their destination as he lays eyes on Arturo’s stall. Once outside the detective agency, she raises a hand to stop them.

“Okay, the detective we need is in here…” Uri casts a nervous glance between them; heart pounding with unease. “Before we head in, there’s something you need to know. Nick Valentine is a prototype synth - he was programmed with the memories of a pre-war detective, and tossed out by the Institute when they were done with him. He hates them as much as anyone else - I can vouch for that. He has helped me through a lot, and killed more synths than I could count. He’s a good man, guys. Give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Uri steps inside before they can challenge her - curiosity must motivate them regardless, for they follow her inside. Ellie looks up from her typewriter, and smiles as she spots Uri.

“Nice to see you, Miss Sanchez.”

“You too, Ellie,” Uri nods politely. The conversation tears Nick away from some case files - his glowing eyes meet hers with warmth that soon dims as he spots the duo on her tail.

“Well, well. I never thought I’d see the Brotherhood on my door. Welcome back, Sanchez… We are on good terms, right?”

“Of course we are,” she rolls her eyes. “Once again, I’m here on business.”

“Brotherhood business?” The synth stands, darting his eyes from Alice to Del. “Can I trust you?”

“I could ask the same thing,” Del grunts… But there’s no malice in his words. No, he surprises Uri by holding out a hand - exactly as he had for Piper. “Knight Delecroix.”

“Nick Valentine,” He nods, warily allowing Del to shake his good hand.

“I’m Scribe Friar,” their companion mutters, eyeing anything other than Valentine himself. Uri can’t help but feel disappointed - she had expected Del to be a problem more so than the scribe.

“Friendly Brotherhood,” Nick smirks at Uri, “You’ve been busy... Now, you gonna tell me why you’re here?”

“Can’t now - but I will when we reach vault eighty-one.”

“Eighty-one?” Nick sighs, “You trying to get me scrapped for parts, Sanchez?”

“They won’t touch you so long as you’re with me. Those guys owe me one. C’mon, Valentine - this is coming from the guy who went down into a vault swarming with Triggermen _alone._ You love the risks.”

“I don’t,” mutters Ellie.

“Don't worry, Ell. I’ll bring him back in… er… as much of one piece as he is in now.”

“I forgot you were such a comedian,” Nick huffs through an eye roll. “Fine. C’mon then - lead the way.”

“We’re grabbing Piper and some noodles, first. Alice hasn’t been to DC before - you're welcome to join, or I can come get you before we head out?”

“Nah, I’ll join ya. Haven’t seen Piper this week - will do me some good to check in with her. Keep tabs on any incoming jobs will ya, Ellie?”

“Of course,” she stands to throw her arms around the detective - he returns the hug in earnest. “Stay safe, Nick. You too,” She gestures to the trio over Nick’s shoulder - and Del chuckles.

“It's my duty to do so,” He grins, offering up an old-world salute. Uri can’t help but roll her eyes.

“Don’t worry about us, Ellie. We’ll see you soon!”

Piper’s already helping herself to a bowl of noodles when they arrive back at the marketplace, so Uri hops onto the stool beside her and gives the automatron his clearly spoken ‘yes’. Del looks significantly more comfortable than Alice. Whilst the knight engages in Piper and Nick’s conversation as though it’s his God-given right, the scribe tucks into her food in silence. Uri sidles up to her.

“You okay there, Al?”

“Yeah,” She breathes, slightly too high-pitched to be anything other than a lie. She quickly crumbles under Uri’s glare. “That detective is a synth, Uri. A _synth_. Does Elder Maxson know about this? He would never have agreed to let us come with you if he knew we’d be working with--”

“Alice, _please_ don’t do this to me now. Like I said earlier, Nick’s different to the others. You don’t have to trust him - but you can trust me, and I’m telling you he’s alright. Please be nice to him, at the very least.”

She’s scowling down at her noodles but, after a brief moment of silence, Alice gives Uri a curt nod. She’s still not happy about this - but she will put up with it, at least for the time being. Uri wraps an arm around her shoulders in thanks, but is quickly distracted by a rather disgruntled Nick.

“Stop that!” he growls, swatting Del’s hand away from the gap where plastic once mimicked flesh. “You go sticking your fingers in every orifice you see?”

Even Alice can’t help but fall about laughing.


	6. Extinction

It’s like Uri has pre-war roaches crawling under her skin. Itching. Digging. Scratching. The others fall into line with ease. It seems to be a speciality of hers: gaining the trust she needs, when she needs it, with nothing more than the jutting of her lower lip.

And now… They’re sat in Vault 81s classroom, watching her with wide eyes as she paces the expanse of the perfectly maintained chalkboard. Her throat is sore from overexertion. Uri has told them everything; every scrap of detail she has that reveals the Institute has watching eyes.

Suddenly, her burning desire to get to 81 makes sense.

“Well,” Nick breaks the silence first - rubbing at the still-good side of his face. “Diamond City knew as much. Piper here has paranoia sky high, but to have it confirmed…”

“It’s a whole new ball game,” Uri finishes, then snorts at her own pun. “Want to weigh in, Pipes?”

Piper's eyes are glassy, but she jumps at the mention of her name.

“I-I’m sorry, Blue. I don’t know anything other than what’s in the papers. Synths replace people - we know that they use those synths to watch us. Who’s to say that’s not it--?”

“That’s not all that they’re doing!” Uri huffs, “They know too much. All that stuff Shaun knew about me? I was all _alone_ when I woke from cryo--”

“But how does that prove that they’re watching us through other than synths? Or those old world security cameras?”

“Do you think I’m crazy or something!?” Uri's head shakes wildly, “I’ve re-lived that conversation in the Memory Den enough times to repeat what he said word-for-word. ‘You set out to the wastes - surviving whatever ills came your way. I had to know more’ and he _knows_ more. He knows too much; we need to figure out how.”

“Uri’s right, Piper,” Nick’s sigh pulls them away from their debate. “The evidence points at them using a superior form of surveillance. Now, if we know _anything_ about the Institute, it’s that they know how to track people. Replacement synths and security cameras are too obvious. There’s gotta be something else…”

“Alice?” The scribes eyes snap from Nick to Uri. “What sort of findings have you guys managed to pick up on the synth work? Arth-- uh, Elder Maxson has you focusing primarily on gen-threes still, right?”

“Our research is primarily biological,” Alice appears sheepish. “We have been looking into the difference between synths made of flesh-and-blood, and those like…” she glances Nick’s way, but stammers, “like the other synths.”

“That’s frustrating, but not entirely useless. We could still use some of that expertise when we figure out how they're watching us.”

A sudden, harsh series of knocks reverberate from the doorway; startling the four humans in the room.

“Lights out in ten, people. You need to head to your bunks.”

Nick chuckles as they clutch their chests; gasping in air to calm the sudden spike to their heart rates.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow,” Uri grumbles. She knows that she will barely sleep, but it’s best not to piss off the vault’s residents on their first night here. The others nod along in agreement, so the knight-turned-CO gathers her notes as they shuffle towards the door. Piper and Nick have been given the De Lucas old room, whilst Alice and Del have had a bunk bed set up in the room Vault 81 donated to Uri for saving little Austin.

“Hey, Uri?” Del’s voice is but a murmur as he catches her arm - the act slips Alice’s notice as she heads into their room.

“What’s up?”

“I, uh… I just wanted to ask why I’m here,” the knight shifts under her gaze. “I get why Piper and Nick are needed, and Alice has knowledge on the scribes synth projects, but I’m just the guy who fights. I don’t have any special skills or info that can help.”

“Del,” Uri cracks a weary smile, “I need you here to keep me _sane_. Since getting out the Institute, my neutral life state has just been complete anxiety. If I don’t have _someone_ who can crack me up, I think all of this would kill me.”

This seems to appease Del’s doubts, for he gives her an unreadable look before dragging her in for a hug.

“We’ll figure this out, Ur,” he speaks into her hair from where his chin rests atop her head. “You don’t have to be scared anymore - we’re here to help. Anything you need, and I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you,” the knight releases a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding and melts into Del’s embrace. Yes, bringing him along was definitely a good idea. Though she wants nothing more than to go and curl up in Arthur’s arms, Uri knows that Del will help to curb the worst of her worries until she can provide their Elder with the answers he needs.

\--

Being back in a vault is disorientating to say the least. Breakfast is at eight, so they allow 81’s security to usher them down to the cafeteria. The residents are all talking amongst themselves, but Uri can feel them watching her ragtag group as they shuffle over to an empty table. Plates heaped with mutfruit pancakes are sat waiting for them, and the sole survivor is about to grab for one when she feels someone barrel into her back.

“Uri! You came back!” Small arms wrap around her midsection from behind, and Uri cannot help but smile.

“Hey, Austin! Long time, no see.”

“Austin!” Doctor Penske crows, “Leave Miss Sanchez to eat her breakfast! You still have your own to finish.”

“It’s alright,” Uri beams over at the frowning woman, whose expression softens once she sees that no harm has been done. “Why don’t you go finish your pancakes, kid? I’ll be here all day. Promise.”

“What was that about?” Chuckles Nick. The groups eyes flit from Uri to the excitable boy in curiosity.

“I was here months back. Heard there was a vault that survived the war, so I got curious. Long story short, this vault was split in two - scientists were supposed to test out diseases on the other side, but the overseer cut off their food supply before the experiments could get going. The scientists all died, but mole rats managed to take over without anyone keeping them in line. Austin found a way in, caught some weird-ass disease, and I had to head in there to find the cure.”

“Anyone ever told you that you’re too good for the wasteland?” Del asks; wearing an expression kin to awe.

“Jeez, Del. Uh. Thanks. Anyone would’a done it, though. He’s just a kid.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Alice shakes her head, “not many people are willing to risk their life for strangers, even if they are young.”

“Maybe not in the Brotherhood,” Piper mumbles, then eyes the knight and scribe over her mug. Both Alice and Del look disgruntled at this, but they can’t exactly argue with her. Most of Uri’s ‘wastelander’ friends _would_ risk their lives for a child - but Uri is yet to see the Brotherhood go out on a limb to help anyone outside of their organisation. They continue to eat their breakfast in silence, which does nothing to settle Uri’s unease.

It’s not until she’s away from the Prydwen that Uri really sees the problems with their organisation. It’s so easy to get caught up in the military prowess - friendly camaraderie, the promise of a safe place to put your head down and make a difference out in the wastes. Sure, they’ve started working with the Minutemen but, even then, Arthur only agreed to do so because there was something to be gained… Maybe she is being unfair. She knows that Arthur’s not callous. He is running a militia, after all. They can’t just offer handout after handout and expect to survive. Uri has heard about the post-Lyons, pre-Maxson years; when the Brotherhood went through a series of incompetent Elders that almost led to the chapter’s extinction. No. The Brotherhood are not the greatest of factions - but they are finally helping the Minutemen, who have the capabilities to help out civilians where the Brotherhood do not.

Days pass. While they crawl closer to figuring the Institute out, it’s not happening soon enough. Uri is starting to have nightmares of her time in 111, and she suspects it has _everything_ to do with seeing what life inside a functioning vault is like. It’s easy to lose herself in thought; wondering what it would have been like, helping Nate and Nora raise Shaun in a place like this. Safe from the radiation wreaking havoc on the world above - picking some mundane vault job to carry out every day for the rest of forever, having a kid of her own to help keep humanity alive… She can’t let herself dwell on how horrifically boring that sounds; Nate and Nora would still be here. She could suffer through her own, personal hell if the Jones’ were there to live it with her.

God, Uri misses them.

“This is starting to feel _impossible,_ ” groans Uri.

“It’s been _five days_. What - were you expecting us to figure out the Institute’s crazy schemes in a matter of hours?” Alice actually laughs. “We’re getting closer. You’ve already disproven Piper’s mannequin theory, and just working with Nick has shown us that not every gen-three synth is a spy.”

“I know that, but proving someone’s idea is bullshit doesn’t equal finding out what idea is _real._ ”

“It’s a huge help,” the scribe says, voice taking on a dreamy tone as she kneels to pet a wandering Ashes. “And to think Paladin Danse thought _you_ could be a spy - not a cute little kitty like you! No way!”

Uri’s breath catches as she meets the feline’s eyes. Yeah, Danse’s drunken theory was one of the first they disproved… but does that mean that he was entirely wrong? Cats and dogs litter the wastes, in various breeds and stages of irradiation. It’s hard to ignore pre-war pets in the wasteland when they offered so much comfort even before the war.

But what about the _other_ animals?

“Think about it!” Uri growls later, as the others laugh at her newest idea. “Sure, radstags and yao guais are out of the question, but there are a bunch of breeds infesting the commonwealth. Who’s to say the Institute don’t use them to their advantage?”

“It’s not entirely ridiculous,” Nick hums; his baritone brings the laughter to a halt as they let him make his point. “If the Institute can create human synths, then what’s stopping ‘em from throwing some animals out into the Commonwealth?”

“We always used to test science out on animals before people pre-war,” Uri catches herself and scoffs, “well, if you ignore Vault-Tec. My point is - why would they not test out their synth technology on animals before people? For all we know, there’s at least one synth brahmin on every farm. It’d be the easiest way to keep an eye on people.”

“ _Please_ ,” Piper groans, “that’s all the Commonwealth needs. I can see my next headline now - ‘is your cattle catching you out!?’”

“I can’t see it being brahmin,” Del rolls his eyes. “It’s too easy to catch out. Farm animals are gonna go to slaughter eventually. If they were to use animals, surely it’d be something out of reach. An animal we just take for granted, y’know?”

“What animal does _anyone_ take for granted in the wasteland?” Alice grumbles. “If you’re not part of a faction or running a damn trading business, chances are you’re scrounging for food."

“Then it’s something small - an animal no one thinks to eat.”

“This is ridiculous,” Del huffs, “I’ve been there, lived poor and got the damn t-shirt. I can tell you now that there’s not a single animal I’ve seen around that I ain’t tried to cook at least once.”

Piper’s shoulders suddenly tense; demanding Uri’s attention.

“But there are,” she almost whispers, face paling at her own realisation. “There are animals we choose to ignore, ‘cause they’re out of reach and more difficult to catch than the meat they’re worth.”

“Care to enlighten us?”

“ _Birds_.”

Uri pauses to think this over… and finds that there’s absolutely no fault in that theory. It’d be the perfect way to keep spying on people; providing people with a birds-eye view of the commonwealth below. They’d be able to land on hut roofs, old electricity wires, balconies - or even the Prydwen’s railings - without alerting people to anything out of the ordinary. Whilst there they’d have the perfect eyes and ears. Everyone is so worried about human-looking synths, no one bothers to stop and think about whether the animals are in on the ‘fun.’ Uri can already think of two times she has been struck by the amount of poultry in the commonwealth; once in Concord, and again in Diamond City…

“Shit!” She hisses, wide-eyed and shaking with excitement, “shit, Piper. You’ve _got_ it!”

“Those smart-ass motherfuckers,” Delecroix shakes his head, “I’ve _fed_ those damn spies breadcrumbs!”

“Now’s not the time,” Uri snaps. “We need to verify this. Al, if we catch ourselves a bird, can you get it to Neriah?”

“Definitely!” She nods, “but how the _hell_ will we catch something that we can’t reach?”

“With food, patience, and a damn good cage,” She’s already strapping on her armour, “where’s the closest place we can go that guarantees birds?”

“They’re everywhere,” Piper gushes, “we can head back to Diamond City and see if we find one along the way? If not, I’ve got some stuff we can work on to turn into a cage back at the Publick.”

“Perfect!”

Uri feels like a live wire as they race out the vault; barking thanks to whoever they pass for giving them a place to stay. There’s not a bird in sight as they race their way to the city, but she knows for a fact that crows love perching themselves on the electric wires threaded throughout the old stadium.

“Hey Danny!” Piper breezes past the dumbstruck guard. He watches them with narrowed eyes as they pass. The guards are far from used to seeing Piper travel with companions, so watching her rush into Diamond City with four other people is quite a surprise.

“So what’s the plan?” Del directs his words at Piper, “you said you had some kinda cage already?”

“I don’t _have_ one, but I have stuff we can use to make one. I’m assuming you tech-hoarders can do fast DIY?”

“I can,” Alice nods, “I’m a scribe. It’s sorta part of the job.”

“Then you two can go do that,” Uri orders, “Nick, Del and I will scope out some hotspots and decide where will be best to go.”

They haven’t been outside in days. It’s mid-afternoon and, despite the glaring sun, a layer of frost covers almost every speck of the Commonwealth. Despite the cold, Diamond City is as lively as ever - though something feels off. They pick up on it as they wander the streets, eyes trained overhead for any feathered friends. Myrna can be heard bartering with some scavver at her stand. A handful of kids rush by, laughing and teasing as they lose themselves in a game of tag. Feint echoes of Travis' cringeworthy commentary bounce off the sheet-metal walls. But there’s something missing, and it has the hair’s on the back of Uri’s neck standing on end. As they finish their circuit around the city, her unease manifests into a single, horrifying realisation.

There’s not a bird in sight.

“ _Fuck_!” her voice wobbles, drawing the trio to a halt. “They’re gone.”

“Maybe they finally decided to head south?” Supplies Nick, but no one is laughing.

“If they’re gone then… Then they _know_. They know we figured it out.”

“Impossible!”

“Look around, Nick!” Uri hisses, “do you see any around? Can _you_ think of the last time you saw _no_ birds hanging around DC?”

“Hey!” Del grabs her by the shoulders and gives her a shake, “calm it, Sanchez. You can’t just go jumping to conclusions. Alright, so no birds are here, but they congregate in other places, right?” She nods, “so we check there.”

“I don’t like this,” Uri stammers, forcing her breathing into a steady rhythm. She fumbles through her pack as they head back to Publick Occurences. Once they explain the situation to Alice and Piper, the reporter’s face pales.

“This doesn’t happen,” she shakes her head, staring out from one of her homestead’s doorways. “There are _always_ birds hanging around. It’s what made me so sure that we were right!”

The others try to argue with Piper, but Uri suspects this is to reign in her panic more than actually believing their reasonings for why the birds have disappeared. The guards must be lost in confusion as they leave the city as quick as they came. With a grenade releasing deep, red plumes of smoke, Uri begins to pace.

This is the best lead she has possibly ever had. It can’t be a coincidence that all of DC’s many birds disappear just as she has clocked on to their possible reason for existing… can it? Uri’s fear of becoming some tinfoil-hatted conspiracy theorist died out with her ever-growing paranoia, but that doesn’t mean that she wants to ignore reason. But there _is_ no reason. As much as she wants to convince herself that the Institute weren’t listening, it’s just not feasible. The birds are gone, and they've taken any semblance of control that Uri thought she had.

“Come _on_!” She growls.

“Cool it, Uri. You dropped that thing a minute ago - the Prydwen is way out from here.”

“They’ll see it, though,” Alice cuts in, offering Del a glare as she settles a hand on the knight’s shoulder. “It’ll get us to your vault in no time. We already have a handful of scribes still working down there - we’ll radio them as soon as we get onto the vertibird. Who knows - maybe they’ll have one caught by the time we arrive?”

“Yeah,” Uri nods, “maybe so…”

She continues to pace; oblivious to the worried stares she is receiving from the others. If she isn’t safe from Shaun’s prying eyes in a vault, of all places, then where _will_ she be? What does she need to do to be rid of him? She spent so long trying to find him; now she has, she is starting to suspect that she would sell her soul for a sense of freedom from his sociopathic control. This isn’t normal. This isn’t _fair_.

“You want to talk, kid?” Nick’s voice is full of gentle concern - so much so that he manages to break her out her reverie. Uri turns from the wasteland to the worried synth at her side, and offers him a wobbly smile.

“I’m going insane,” she chokes, “the Commonwealth’s boogeyman is fixated on me, I finally may have a lead on how he’s keeping tabs on me, and now _this_ \--”

“Say no more,” Nick shakes his head with a furrowed brow, “I can’t remember a time that every bird in that place was a no-show. It’s definitely suspicious - and begs the question: how did the Institute know we’d found out? And how did they find out so quick?”

“Jesus,” the knight hands her head in her hands, voice breaking as tears burn her eyes, “I don’t know, Nick. But they know - surely they know? If they do, they’re not taking this lying down. I already had a warning about investigating further.”

“The Commonwealth has to know, Uri. I don’t do this line of work to keep the status quo as it is. The Institute continue to do unspeakable things, and it’s our job to stop them. May not like the Brotherhood, but our end goals are the same. If we can prove this theory right, then the Institute will have lost one of its biggest advantages.”

She knows that he’s right, but it does nothing to get rid of her growing need to bring her breakfast back up.

She doesn’t think she has dissociated this much since getting back from the Institute. Though she feels no need to get herself blind drunk and stop eating, the world has taken on a dream-like quality in her state of panic. She wants to believe Alice - really, she does. But the Institute has proven itself far more competent than even the most paranoid of any and all settlements could dream up. She thinks back to Tinker Tom as they finally board the vertibird. Would he have concluded that birds were being used as glorified security cameras? He may have already figured it out, if Deacon scurried off to him with the information Uri provided… Alice hops into the spare seat in the front to radio the others. The Lancer-Pilot looks ill at the thought of letting a synth ride the ‘bird, but he says nothing as the others restrain from putting a gun to Nick’s wire-riddled head.

Uri forces herself to think about the odd weather changes as of late to distract from the sickly roil of her stomach. One minute it’s snowing, the next it’s so humid that even Arthur has to break uniform protocol, then it’s so cold that settlers are wrapping themselves up in moth-eaten scarves to get through a day at work. It’s all very strange, but Uri supposes that it’s just part of living in a world riddled with post-apocalyptic radiation damage. At least they’re not in a state of constant nuclear winter...

It’s when they’re over Drumlin Diner that they hear the gunshots. A mix of the buzz of laser pistols tied in with the loud bangs of lead-based weaponry. Uri’s face drains of colour, and everyone aboard the vertibird freezes in horror.

“Get Kells on the radio _now_!” Barks Alice.

“They know,” She chokes, “they warned me.”

“ _Shit_!” Del howls, “Lancer-Pilot, get this thing to Sanctuary _now_!”

He pushes Piper aside as they near Concord. Delecroix proceeds to prep the minigun, but Uri drags him back.

“NO!” She shrieks, “No! You could hurt one of our own, goddamn _idiot!_  Ready your weapons! We need to… need…”

Words fail everyone as they finally lay eyes on the settlement. Flashes of white-hot light have them shielding their eyes, but it’s not quick enough for Uri to miss the flames rising from a number of the derelict homes. The sounds of gunfire dissipate with every passing second and, with a sinking feeling that could drag the entire vertibird down, Uri knows that they are already too late.

Uri did not heed X6’s warning, and now Sanctuary has joined University point in extinction.


	7. Clouds

Uri doesn’t wait until the vertibird has landed. As soon as the Lancer-Pilot has got them close enough to the ground, she pushes herself off the edge. The others are calling for her, but she can barely make out their words; the heartbeat in her ears is as deafening as the ‘bird’s thundering propellers.

She’s at the edge of the road leading to Sanctuary when arms envelop her.

“GET OFF!” She bursts, lashing out at whoever dares to try and stop her _now_. Her home is burning. She has to get back. Needs to be sure that it’s even real. But those arms tighten and, when her assailant speaks, he has Del’s voice.

“It’s too dangerous!” Even he sounds broken; the knight’s usually upbeat, reassuring tone is gone. Replaced by the cracked baritone of a broken man. “Uri, please.”

“THAT’S MY _HOME_!” Her own voice wobbles around the scream, and then she’s wailing. The shock prevents her from breaking down on the spot. She continues her fight against Del’s grip, but he’s far stronger than she is. Someone else is speaking to her, now, but her focus is swallowed up by yet another, thunderous explosion from the settlement ahead.

This can’t be happening. This isn’t real. She’s dreaming. She has to be dreaming, right? Any minute now, she’ll wake up in the safe-albeit-suffocating compound that is Vault 81. She’ll panic for a minute, then Alice will reassure her that it was just a damn bad dream. Birds. Of course it’s not the birds. Her paranoia is clearly fucking with her subconscious. No one can attack Sanctuary. It’s one of the safest places in the Commonwealth; her pre-war shrine. The place that took care of her whenever she needed it most. Besides, MacCready lives there.

 _MacCready lives there_.

“Ow!” She barely whispers, turning when she feels a sudden prick in the side of her neck. Her vision begins to blur immediately; the last thing Uri sees is Alice apologising profusely.

\--

When Kells breaks the news, something in Arthur snaps.

“You’re in charge until I return,” the Elder chokes. None of the Paladins he had been meeting with dare complain as he bolts for the door. Naturally, Danse is on his heel.

“Permission to join you, Elder?”

“Granted! Go on ahead. Prepare a vertibird yourself if no Lancer-Pilot is in sight.”

_Sanctuary is down._

Uri’s home, gone. Arthur cannot begin to imagine… it must have been bad enough, waking up to find everything dead. But it was still there. A crude shell of the cul-de-sac it had once been, but Sanctuary had stood the test of time well. He thinks of all the hard work the Minutemen have put into rebuilding it. The innocent civilians who put in that effort - just wanting to make a life for themselves. To build something they could be proud of; something worth protecting.

With his own, modified laser pistol holstered under the battlecoat, Arthur leaps down to the lower deck and storms his way to Danse. He isn’t trained to fly, but he has prepared a vertibird as fast as he could. Arthur takes the pilot’s seat himself - only just giving himself enough time to fasten the headset in place before detaching the airbus from his ship.

His mind whirs as he sets them on a direct, north-westerly route. A raider attack nor gunners greed crosses his mind. No one is foolish enough to think that this was done by anyone other than the Institute. They have carried out such an atrocity before - on a settlement much larger than Sanctuary, no less. He has never been to University Point himself, but he remembers the expression Knight Henderson had worn as he recounted his experiences there. It was overrun by ferals and synths, and he was the last remaining survivor of the squadron sent to clear it. Half-rotten corpses and long-abandoned stalls, homes and turrets were all that remained of the once-thriving city.

Maxson had been in no rush to send his troops back, after that.

 _Now Sanctuary, too_.

He feels another pang as he pictures the settlement in his mind. There was the first place he finally gave in to the temptation that is Uri Sanchez… Their first night together was spent in the Jones’ home. In that old, patchwork room that was so unmistakably hers. Arthur’s breath catches as he thinks of Vault 111’s graveyard. As though the Institute hadn’t committed enough horrors; they had to go on to desecrate their burial ground?

Is there no low that those monsters will not sink to?

Knight Delecroix is standing to attention when they finally manage to land the vertibird. Arthur sets it down at the all-too familiar Red Rocket; already feeling nauseated from the thick, black smoke he had to watch rise for a good portion of their journey. The wind blows north today. The few survivors congregating at the truck stop are, at least, safe from suffocation.

“Update!” Arthur barks, entirely foregoing formalities.

“We were too late, Sir. The fighting had ended by the time we arrived. Knight Sanchez was ready to rush in there, so we had to put her out,” his expression fills with regret, “Scribe Friar administered the Med-X. Just enough to keep her out for a few hours. The survivors heard our vertibird - there are ten overall. Some are badly injured. With your permission, Sir, we would like to take them to the Castle? One of their own said that they are far better equipped to handle this.”

“Granted,” Arthur nods, eyeing the second vertibird. The Lancer-Pilot has left his post; he can be seen tending to one of the wounded. “Tell Edmane to get as many survivors as possible on that vertibird. If you cannot fit them all, I will handle the rest.”

“Thank you, Elder,” Delecroix goes to leave, but he soon falters. The Knight’s gaze has softened as he meets Arthur’s eyes. “Sanchez is inside, if you want to see her.”

“Thank you, Knight. You are dismissed.”

Anger and second-hand grief are burning a hole in his chest. Arthur wants to go to Uri. He wants that more than anything; but the battle was recent. This is the closest he, himself, has ever been to their enemy. The enemy that is slowly taking anything and everything that Uri has ever loved. _The enemy that gave her to you in the first place_ , his mind unhelpfully adds. It doesn’t matter. That _one_ good thing was an accident. They had thought that Uri was Nora. If not for Vault-Tec’s mistake, Uri would be dead.

That thought alone has him jogging up the path.

“Elder Maxson!” Danse hisses, but Arthur pays him no heed. He knows that the Paladin will follow. _Let him_. The two of them would prove to be formidable against any foe.

His pistol is out with the safety off as soon as his feet hit the wooden bridge.

It’s with a single, choked sob that Arthur realises: it’s the Jones’ home that is ablaze. Though every other house has been damaged by gunshots, laser beams and grenades, from his initial surveyance they look salvageable… that is until he sees the bodies. The first he recognises almost instantly. It’s the Vault-Tec ghoul they had crossed paths with in Goodneighbor. Ghoul-or-not, Uri had cared about him. He remembers how relieved she was to find somebody from before. She didn’t care about the state he was in - when he had hugged her, she had thrown her own arms around him. Offered the lonely ghoul a home with her; in her Sanctuary.

Now, he is sprawled across the ground. There’s a huge, gaping hole where his chest once was; eyes wide and horrified in death.

Seeing dismembered gen-one and two limbs is not enough for him. Not when he compares it to the loss of tangible, human life. Did the Institute not send any gen-threes? Was all _this_ caused by nothing more than their most primitive synthetics? Danse releases a shaky breath, causing Arthur to pause. When the Elder turns, he spots the Paladin kneeling by a child. She cannot be older than ten.

Tears sting Arthur’s eyes as he pushes on. He is quickly losing control of his breathing as he counts up the bodies. Fifteen, so far. The majority of which are familiar. He had not spent time conversing with Sanctuary’s residents, but he has been here enough to know who they are. The roles they played, the people they considered family… Now, even the brahmin are dead. The constantly sombre man who lost his son in Quincy. Mama Murphy… and…

“MacCready!?”

The sniper has propped himself up against the house two-spaces down from Uri’s. The survivors must have missed him, before. He’s still alive. Arthur rushes over as soon as the other man tilts his head upward; before he can get a word in, MacCready is breaking into a fit of coughs. When he draws his hand back, it’s _covered_ in blood.

Which may have something to do with the multiple stab wounds in his abdomen.

“NO!” He hisses, kneeling beside him. MacCready, despite everything, manages to unleash one of those infuriating chuckles of his.

“L'k who’is,” he garbles, “Max…”

“Don’t try to speak!” He snaps, prying his arms from the wounds. MacCready groans in response, but Arthur ignores it - assessing the damage. There must be some stimpacks nearby.

“I can fix this!” He snaps, dropping his arms. “MacCready, where can I find a medikit?”

“No…” He stops laughing, now, and Maxson wants to _scream_ at the genuine look of fear in those eyes of his. MacCready scrambles an arm out. Arthur watches him dumbly, for a moment, until he realises that he’s reaching for him. He allows the sniper to take his hand. Despite everything, he lets him. Because he knows as well as MacCready does… Knows that there is no going back from this.

“Maxs’n,” He warbles, “D’nc’n… K'p s’fe…”

“Your son is at the Castle,” Arthur’s voice is thicker than it was before. He places a second hand over MacCready’s, nodding all the while. “He’s safe, soldier. I’ll keep him safe.”

“G’d,” his breaths are becoming increasingly shallow. Blood has pooled around him. Arthur can feel it seeping into the knees of his suit. “Uri…?”

“She’s at the truck stop. She… God,” He inhales sharply, squeezing his eyes shut in horror. “She was going to come here, but it was too dangerous. She’s out on Med-X.”

“D’mnit,” he sobs, now. When Arthur opens his eyes, tears are streaking down the other man’s cheeks. “Tell h'r…” He grinds his teeth for a moment, seemingly searching for the strength to form more words. “Tell 'er g’bye?”

“Of course.”

“Y’love 'er too?” He whispers, and now Arthur’s crying too. Damnit. All this training - and he’s crying. He has _never_ cried in battle before. He doesn’t even _like_ MacCready. All he can manage is a nod, and MacCready begins coughing again.

“Me too,” He wheezes through the blood in his lungs. “N’v’r told ‘er…”

“I’ll tell her for you,” Arthur vows, “and I’ll make them pay. I swear to you, the Institute will not get away with this.”

“Good.”

That single word is spat with so much venom that Arthur almost falls back, before remembering MacCready’s state. He coughs again - but his lungs are obviously too full of his own blood for him to catch his breath. Arthur’s hands shake as he watches MacCready drown before him, hating himself for being absolutely incapable of doing _anything_ to ensure the man’s survival.

When his shallow breaths stop, Arthur reaches up to close his unseeing eyes.

“Damnit,” he sobs, drawing away. He’s covered in red. His hands. His arms. The fur of his coat. Danse is stood behind him, eye red as they flicker between MacCready and Maxson; looking torn between horror and concern as he realises just how _lost_ his Elder truly is.

“We should leave,” Danse heaves, “there’s nothing we can do.”

“Check the vault,” Arthur stammers. “We had scribes there.”

“Sir…"

“That’s an _order_ , Paladin!”

Like the excellent soldier Danse is, he obeys Arthur’s command. The Elder spends a moment watching him walk away; willing his emotions to go back to wherever they came from. Even if he can only put this off a short a while longer, that’s ok. There is still more of the settlement to see before they depart. He cannot walk around the place _crying._

Arthur halts once more as he spots the figure looming over Vault 111’s graves. Nora and Nate’s, to be precise… he knows who it is; it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who the man in a white lab coat and hair to match could be. At first, the Elder is frozen as shock turns his limbs to ice. He had expected more damaged gen-ones and twos. A few dead settlers. More, unnecessary collateral to catalogue later on.

Had this monster of a man watched Arthur comfort MacCready as his life drained away? Arthur wants to think not; to reassure himself that _no one_ could be that callous. How long has he been here? Had he seen the sniper before? Had MacCready begged him for help, just to be cast aside… Cast aside like he was nothing? He snaps back to reality within seconds but, as soon as the Elder reaches for his gun, something hard and cold is pressed to the back of his head.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what _that_ is, either.

“Why are you _here_?” He seethes. Arthur Maxson has weapons other than guns and knives, after all. “Did you come to see the lives your orders snuffed out?”

“Good afternoon, Elder,” the man says. Calm and polite as can be. He turns from the graves to bestow Arthur with a half-smile. “Please, excuse ex-six-eighty-eight. I am more than sure that you understand the need for his close proximity, of course?”

“I take you for many things, but an idiot is not one of them,” Arthur has to pause after that. The man doesn’t so much as flinch... It’s as though he’d done nothing more than comment on the weather. “I’ll ask again - _why are you here_?”

“To visit my parents, of course,” Father gestures to the two graves he had been admiring. “I watched you assist with their burial, you know? I wanted to thank you, actually. Leaving them in the vault was a regretful necessity but, in the end, your love for my sister proved useful if only for that.”

“Uri is _not_ your sister! How can you _dare_ \--?”

“You have always been so theatrical!” Father cuts him off with laughter and, sure enough, the older man’s eyes gleam with genuine amusement as he steps closer. “I enjoy watching you, you know? The way you command your army. You are intriguing, for a child. May I ask how you rose so high in rank at such a young age? The wasteland is a dangerous place, but the average life expectancy is not _that_ low.”

Arthur may be excellent with words, but this he cannot compute. Here stands a man who just facilitated the murder of countless innocents: and all he cares about is asking _personal questions_?

“Just… Go! You have done enough damage. Crawl back to your laboratory and _leave Uri alone_."

“Ah, yes. Unfortunately Uri left me with no choice,” Shaun sighs, “ex-six did provide her with a warning, but she is a terrible listener. Perhaps you could teach her some of your tactical skills, when she wakes? She carried out her mission in a vault _designed_ for observation, Elder. Your training is clearly not up to scratch.”

“What do you mean you warned her?”

“Her discussion with ex-six. At the castle…” realisation quickly dawns on his age-weathered face, “ah, she didn’t tell you. Apologies.”

“ _Leave_ ,” Arthur seethes. His fingers are cramping from the tightness of which his hands are balled into fists, and if he felt sick before, he is about ready to vomit now. Definitely not something he needs the Institute’s Director to see.

“I want you to look around, Elder Maxson,” Shaun gestures to the wreckage surrounding them; cold, green eyes settle on MacCready, and he tsks. “I want you to remember this… unnecessary bloodshed. This is what happens when you try to stick your nose where it does not belong. This is on you."

“Nice try,” Arthur growls; smirking murderously at the man inches away. “If anything, this goes to show precisely why we cannot allow your work to continue.”

“Do bear it in mind,” Shaun smiles thinly, ignoring the Elder’s words. “I do so dislike culling the population, but a man will do what he must to survive.”

Stars dance behind Arthur’s lids as blinding white light engulfs him. It takes a moment to readjust to his surroundings but, when he does, Father and the courser are nowhere to be seen.

\--

Uri awakens with a jolt; surprising Arthur into action. She watches with blurred vision as he leaps up from his couch and strides over... Not really with-it enough to register anything more than the way the bed dips as he sits.

“You’re alright,” he takes her hand, “we're in my quarters, aboard the Prydwen.”

“Prydwen?” her tone holds a dreamy edge to it. “How’d I get here?”

“After Friar and Delecroix drugged you, you fell unconscious. We brought you back after that - they explained that your mission was a success.”

“ _Shit,_ ” she chokes; memories hitting her like a freight train. Uri ignores the way her head swims as she pushes herself up, “Sanctuary was attacked! Arthur, I have to go--”

“We already did,” his voice cracks in a way Uri has never heard before. It surprises her so much that she sits down beside him; concerned eyes trace the worry lines in his forehead as she takes his hand again.

“You… Did you see it?”

“I did.”

“God, Arthur! They-- how much do you know?”

“I know that you concluded the Institute are spying through synth crows; that it was gen-one and two synths that carried out the attack on Sanctuary.”

He feels sick as her eyes flood with tears. Hell, this isn’t even the worst of it.

“That night at the castle. The bruises. It was a courser - he warned me to stop looking into the Institute.”

“This is _not_ your fault!” Arthur takes her face in his hands, holding her as he would porcelain. Calloused thumbs wipe at the tears pouring down her cheeks. “You did not cause this. The Institute are not allowed to exert this sort of dominance over the lives of innocents. Please, Uri, do not blame yourself.”

“Surprisingly, I don’t,” she smiles weakly. “You’re right - after all the shit they’ve pulled, someone needs to do something. This attack only proved that.”

He kisses her gently, and she clings to his wrists as though he’s a lifeline. She continues to do so as he draws back. He wishes this could be left here. God, he doesn’t want to tell her. MacCready’s unseeing eyes are all he can think about right now, and he doesn’t want her to know.

“Who survived?”

Arthur stares at her. He’s desperate. He wants to beg her not to ask - to keep herself ignorant for as long as possible. He had always suspected there had been more to Uri and MacCready than friendship but, in his state of petty jealousy, Arthur had elected to believe her when she said they were friends.

And now he has to tell her that he’s dead.

“I don’t know their names,” he admits rather guiltily, “but, Uri-- there’s something… you need to know.”

He hears her breath catch. Watches as a flush crawls up her cheeks. Swears he hears her whisper _no_. He squeezes his eyes closed once more and pushes his palms against them. He has to do it. God, he doesn’t want to - but he must.

“When I arrived, MacCready… He was hurt. I tried to get him to direct me to a medikit, but he knew…”

“ _No,_ ” she chokes; louder this time. Arthur’s throat clogs itself with grief on her behalf, and he thinks back to that horrible moment the sniper stopped laughing. The fear in his gaze...

“He asked me to do two things,” Arthur turns tearful eyes to her; grasps her shoulders to help keep the knight grounded. Tears are pouring down her face. Her chest heaves with sobs; but she still meets his eyes. “MacCready asked me to keep Duncan safe, and… he never got to tell you that he loved you, and goodbye.”

“Where _is_ he?”

Arthur can’t bear to look at her as he replies.

“He’s dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself cry writing this chapter THIS WAS NOT AN EASY THING TO DO.


	8. Online

“For a serial killer-slash-psycho, this creep sure had a lot of comics.”

“Really?” Uri folds her arms; watching as her exasperating companion riffles through a box of his favourite reading material. “I have a weird feeling those were for Shaun: call me crazy.”

“Probably true - but I dunno,” his eyes flash with amusement, “I can totally imagine him sat in that overcompensating arm chair with Grognak in hand.”

“Wow-- I, uh, don’t even want to go into that euphemism. Just put the comics away, alright? God knows I wanna be able to sleep at some point. There’s a lot of shit to kick outta this place.”

“Is squatting in the guy you killed's abandoned house the best idea?” Mac looks doubtful as he raises to full height. “It’s just - surely the guards are gonna notice there are-- mmph.”

The vault dweller’s lips are MacCready’s favourite way to be silenced, he decides, as Uri drags him down into a searing kiss. It’s safe to say - by the time they are done with one another - the house is messier than it was when they first arrived.

\--

Uri’s eyes are dry as she steps into the old shack; toying with the keys she had 'borrowed’ from their hiding place in the bleachers below. It’s as pristine as she had last seen it… her heart twinges uncomfortably as she questions whether Mac used this place after she left him.

“We looking for anything in specific?” asks Del.

“You’re doing _nothing_ ,” she mutters stiffly; not so much gracing him with a glance as she eyes the old stack of boxed-up comics. “I’ll find it myself.”

\--

 _“Take care of MacCready for me. He’s one of the good ones._ ”

Daisy had said this to Uri once they handed over Duncan’s cure; eyes shining as she squeezed the vault-dweller’s hand. She’s not entirely sure why she can’t get the statement out of her head - but it’s stuck there all the same.

“Hey,” the man himself breaks Uri away from her thoughts. They’re sat on the couch in Kellogg’s-turned-their home. The sniper hands her a lukewarm bottle of Gwinnett from the murderer’s hefty stash, which she takes with thanks. “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” Uri sends a reassuring smile his way, detecting the nerves he’s carrying. Those impossibly blue eyes of his are full of gratitude. 

“I-- uh, well I already said thanks for helping me get the cure, but I wanted to get you something - to repay my debts to you. So, I wanted you to have this.”

Mac takes a moment to go through his battered duster’s pocket and, when he’s done, he holds out his palm. There sits a wooden toy soldier. Hand-crafted, by the look of it, and carrying an exact replica of his own beloved sniper rifle. Uri’s eyes are wide with awe as she takes it; holding the figurine up in an attempt to make out the details better under the dingy lights.

“I know a carved toy soldier is a strange reward for risking your life, but this one’s special… it means a lot to me.”

Uri wants to say something, but her throat is thick with emotion. After waiting a minute, Mac continues.

“I, uh, got it from Lucy. She gave it to me right after we met… I told her I was a soldier, so she made it for me. Never could bring myself to tell her the truth; that I was just a hired killer.”

“Hey,” She shakes her head, “you’re not ‘just’ anything, R.J MacCready.” Uri places the toy soldier on the coffee table and takes his hand in hers, ignoring the uncomfortable tightness in her chest. “You don’t have any debts with me, y’know? You’ve helped me in so many ways, I can’t begin to thank you for it… You’re a good man. I’m sure Lucy would’a known that even if you had told her the truth.” 

“Thanks,” he half-smiles, “I hope you’re right. You’ve also gotta know you’ve been a big help to me, though. After meeting you,” he scoffs, “you’ve got the world’s problems on your back and here you are helping me with mine… lending me a shoulder, like Lucy did.” 

Anxiety sets in.

“Mac--”

“I just want you to know how much you mean to me.”

\-- 

She’d kissed him after that; kickstarting yet another round of sex. She’d been too afraid to admit that his words terrified her. Uri was practically fresh out the vault at that point, and she’d never had a meaningful romance with _anyone_ before. She finds the toy soldier in a box of her things she never got around to picking up. Del watches her curiously, but Uri can’t bring herself to explain its importance. 

Uri has barely spoken to Arthur since he gave her the news; electing to take leave for a couple of days to wrap her head around it all. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Duncan - Preston did instead. He’d always been more tactful; she has full confidence that he will have been as gentle with the young MacCready as possible. She’ll visit him eventually, but not when she feels as breakable as she does right now.

God, has Arthur been patient with her. He’d looked upset when she asked for leave, but he didn’t argue. He’s sat at his desk when she finally returns - Ingram has already updated Uri on the long day he’s had. She had hoped that he would be sleeping but he turns upon hearing the door open. His tired frown turns into a smile as the Elder meets her eyes.

“Hey,” she smiles back sadly, and he stands - reports left forgotten as he immediately reaches for the whiskey.

“How are you feeling?” he pours two, generous servings into crystalline glasses.

“Better,” Uri decides before taking a sip. It tastes vile, but the burn in its wake is precisely what she needs. “We buried him next to Nora and Nate. It’s probably best we let Preston knows - incase Duncan wants to visit.” 

“I’ve spoken to Duncan myself,” Arthur admits; surprising her.

“You have?” He nods, “how is he? Why’d he talk to _you_?”

“He is heartbroken as to be expected, and… he wants to join the Brotherhood.”

“He _what_?”

Arthur knocks back his drink and immediately pours a second.

“He’s an angry child. The Institute have caused him an immeasurable amount of pain by killing his father. He wants to join the Brotherhood - seems to think that we will give him access to them in some way.”

“We can’t,” Uri’s eyes narrow into a glare, “tell me you said no.”

“I told him that we would consider it. I wanted to speak with you, first. I… know MacCready had reservations about us. I wasn’t sure he would want this for his child.”

Whatever Uri had expected him to say: this wasn’t it. It’s at this point that she really takes in his appearance - the dark circles under his eyes, the slump in his usually stoic shoulders.

“Are you alright?”

It’s the first time anyone has asked him that since the incident occured. _This_ is the downside to being the Elder: people expect you to remain strong in the face of anything and everything. Danse, in fairness, had gone out of his way to pay frequent visits to Arthur since they returned, but he has never been able to open up to his subordinates - with the exception of Ingram, of course, but she has been far too busy with Liberty Prime.

“I will be fine,” he squeezes her hand, and suddenly she’s pulling him into a hug.

“Damn, Arthur. I’m sorry. I-- you’ve been so patient, even though I lied to you,” the knight draws back to look at him again, “I’m sorry. About MacCready. About saying there wasn’t anything between us - there was once, but I ended it. I knew he had stronger feelings for me than I did for him, but I never loved him. I couldn’t-- I’d only just started getting used to this hellhole and--”

“Wait,” Arthur holds up a hand, feeling both insulted and amused, “you think I’m upset about that?”

Uri blinks. “Uh - well, I _lied_ to you.”

“I know you lied,” he rolls his eyes, “and I understand why. I was being ridiculous - everyone has a past. I’m not mad at you.”

She shakes her head, feeling stupid for, once again, underestimating him. He’s not the same man she had met when she first boarded the Prydwen; Uri would do well to remember that sometimes.

“What’s in your hand?”

“Oh, this?” Uri opens her fist to reveal the toy soldier, “it’s something Mac gave me. I got it from the house we shared - I’d let him keep that after we split. Del was nice enough to join me on a small trip down memory lane… I couldn’t bear to leave this behind again. I’m saving his hat for Duncan. I wanted something for me.”

“Understandable,” Arthur presses a kiss to her forehead, “I still have Sarah’s holotags in my desk. It helps to have something to remember them by.”

“It does." 

Uri heads over to the decorative shelves to the left of the room and places the soldier among their shared keepsakes. It fits perfectly amongst Arthur’s baseball memorabilia, so that’s where it stays. When she turns back to the Elder, he is already undressing for bed… His coat is already off. Uri finds herself hypnotised by the calloused fingers lowering his suit’s zip, exposing his well-defined chest. 

He’s so beautiful; her chest actually _aches_.

He grunts in surprise as she pushes him to sit on the bed. He’s in nothing but his boxers, but the glint in her darkened eyes tells Arthur that he won’t have them on much longer. She cups a cheek in one hand and kisses him, allowing her other hand to trace over his abdomen teasingly as she gets herself comfortable; straddling his knees, keeping enough space between their bodies to slip her hand under the waistband.

“I’ve missed you,” she breathes; hot and heavy against his mouth. That teasing hand of hers is tracing patterns on his thigh; he bites her lower lip in response, loving the way it elicits a heady gasp. Arthur leans back to steady himself as she finally takes him in hand; not trusting himself to do so as she strokes him into hardness. When her hand draws away his eyes snap open, but he soon realises it was only to provide some lubrication. She lathers that same hand teasingly whilst tugging his underwear down, so he complies. 

When he’s completely naked her fingers wrap around him once more; causing his breath to catch in his throat. He wants to return the favour, but when he tries to do so she swats him away and shakes her head - so he lets her take charge. He is aware that their kisses become messier as she tightens her grip; his even breaths falter as she strokes her thumb over the tip every time she reaches the end. She grabs his hand to place on her hip and tightens it - wordlessly telling him to hold her in place, and when he complies she adds her other hand, engulfing him almost completely as she picks up the pace.

“ _God_ ,” he curses, feeling that burning-hot coil begin to tighten. She’s going to have bruises where he’s holding onto her, at this rate, but Uri doesn’t seem to care. No. She’s far too busy watching him as he begins to fall apart; loving how his eyelids flutter. How that flush travels up his neck into his cheeks. How his abdomen and thighs tighten in preparation - the way his lips and tongue become entirely uncoordinated as he attempts to stifle the sounds accompanying his pleasure. It’s been weeks since they were intimate, so it doesn’t take long for that coil to snap. When he comes it covers his bare chest; sending a relaxing buzz throughout his body. She has to kiss him harder to help muffle his pleased groan.

“Thank you,” he pants, trailing butterfly kisses down her jaw: almost embarrassed by the breathless heaving of his chest. Uri giggles.

“You’re gorgeous, y’know that?” She reaches for the tissues they keep under the bed and cleans him off, “I’m pretty sure I’m the luckiest gal in the Commonwealth: falling in love with someone who looks _that_ good when they… _oh_.”

The smile has disappeared from Arthur’s face: replaced by a look of sheer surprise as he stares at her. Uri catches on to what she said and she, too, freezes. After what she said about MacCready - it all happening too soon, how she ran - Arthur cannot help but become fearful that she will bolt for the door.

But, slowly, Uri begins to smile. 

“Hey,” She laughs breathlessly, “I guess, uh. I love you, too.”

He kisses her deeply, pulling her down to lay entangled in his arms. They stay like that for a while. Despite all the hurt Uri is currently going through: she finds she’s never been happier than in that moment. Arthur is _everywhere_ , and she’s actually content to just hold him without looking for something more. That’s when she realises - she has never given sexual favours without looking for something in return. Then again: she’s never fallen in love before.

There’s a first time for everything.

\--

“Holy _shit.”_

“Must you be so vulgar?” Quinlan sighs. Uri ignores him: focusing all of her attention on the giant, humanoid robot towering over them. It’s… incredible. Though she is grateful power armour had been deployed to Anchorage (she’d have been killed by Concord’s deathclaw without it!) Uri cannot help but wonder how that battle against the Commies would have gone with this thing in the mix. 

Much faster, probably: and with bigger nukes.

“We’ve managed to restore Prime’s basic functions,” Scara mutters. Despite their success, she looks far from pleased. The professor is still working on her terminal as she speaks. “He’s ready to go: so much so that explaining to the system why it’s still offline is proving difficult.” 

“Are we now able to bring him online?” Asks Arthur. 

“That’s the plan!” Ingram clanks on closer to them. Uri and Arthur are stood in front of an extremely tempting red button. Flanking them is Quinlan, Kells and Head Scribe Neriah; all of who have helped, to some degree, with retrievals, intelligence and the building of the ginormous bot. “If it’s alright with you Elder Maxson: we thought Knight Sanchez could press the button.”

“ _Me_?”

“You’ve gone through hell and back to help us get this bucket 'o bolts running again. Please - you’ve earned it.”

“Damn!” She is in complete awe as her eyes flick from Prime to the console ahead. “Two hundred years ago, if you told me I’d get first-hand access to military property stashed in the _Pentagon,_ I’d’ve called you crazy. This… This _is_ crazy.”

“Please go on,” Arthur huffs from beside her. “I would quite like to see if it’s working.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m doin’ it,” she grumbles, sauntering forward. When her hand is hovering over the button, she throws a smirk over her shoulder. “Anyone wanna give me a drumroll.”

“ _Uri_ …”

The machine unleashes a hydraulic hiss the second the button’s hit, demanding the attention of everyone close enough to hear.

“LIBERTY PRIME: BACK ONLINE.”

“All right!” Ingram whoops, “let’s run a basic diagnostic on him.”

“DIAGNOSTIC COMMAND: ACCEPTED.”

Liberty Prime immediately begins flexing his limbs. Spidery fingers clench into fists; any and all joints twist and turn, testing out his new limb actuators.

“Give him a moment,” Scara says as he continues to do this. “He needs to adjust to his new configuration.”

“VOICE MODULE: ONLINE. AUDIO FUNCTIONAL TEST… INITIALISED.”

“Is he _supposed_ to be letting out steam?”

“ _Hush,_ Sanchez.”

“DESIGNATION: LIBERTY PRIME MARK TWO. MISSION: THE LIBERATION OF ANCHORAGE, ALASKA. PRIMARY TARGETS: ANY AND ALL RED CHINESE INVADERS.”

“Now let me run a system analysis and battle readiness check,” Ingram hisses, gazing up at the robot in pure reverence. Uri has to bite her tongue to stop from being snapped at again. 

“LIBERTY PRIME: FULL SYSTEM ANALYSIS. ALL SYSTEMS: NOMINAL. WEAPONS: HOT. WARNING: NUCLEAR PAYLOAD DEPLETED. RELOAD REQUIRED.” A pause. “WARNING: POWER CORE OFFLINE. RUNNING ON EXTERNAL POWER ONLY. CORE RESTART RECOMMENDED. ABILITY TO REPEL RED CHINESE INVADERS: COMPROMISED.”

“I’ve got a green light across the board here,” the Proctor beams. “He’s looking good from where I’m sitting… Professor, if you wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on the big guy here, I’d appreciate it.”

“That’s all we _can_ do until he’s got power and weaponry,” Scara scoffs. “Until then, he’s about as much use as a table decoration.”

“I have to admit,” Ingram turns to Maxson, “I wasn’t sure we’d be able to pull it off, but Liberty Prime is looking pretty good.”

“What was that about his power core?” Uri asks: ignoring Arthur’s glare.

“Prime’s in top shape, but his nuclear engine needs to be restarted. Right now, we have him running off the Prydwen’s engines. Once I get that sorted, we’ll send him off to kick in the Institute’s front door.”

“I assume that this is why you sent in a mission request?” The Elder asks, raising his brow at the Proctor. Her eyes become pleading. 

“Quinlan’s scribes have found the perfect power source. With your permission, Sir, I want to take charge of the mission. We must head over to the Mass Fusion building as _soon_ as possible. We believe it’s a major point of interest for the Institute: it’s only a matter of time before they get their hands on that tech. Tech that we _desperately_ need.”

“And his nukes?”

“Prime’s bomb pack is fitted for Mark Twenty-eight Nuclear Bombs. The same type of bombs that were dropped from aircraft during the Great War. The Commonwealth was a major staging area for the military’s air force, so we assumed we wouldn’t have any trouble finding them; but since we arrived, our scouting teams haven’t located a single bomb.”

“Hence the ‘table decoration’ statement,” Scara sighs. “Without a fully loaded nuke pack, Prime won’t have the firepower to take on the Institute… and we’re yet to figure out how to build the damn things.”

“ _Build_ nukes?” Uri’s laughter is borderline hysterical, “are you kidding me? Building nukes isn’t like getting a robot working, guys. Only nuclear physicists could do that - and _trust me,_ they were as hard to come by back then as they are now. Not to mention: none of you _want_ to be able to build nukes. Do we even want to use them for this?” she turns to Ingram, looking desperate. “Is there no other way? Doesn’t he have any other way to fight?” 

“His eyes double up as lasers, and he packs a mean punch but… Well, the pre-war military liked what they liked. Without his nukes, we’ll be at a terrible disadvantage.”

“We were wondering if you had any ideas, Knight?” Quinlan speaks up. “We have located records regarding a military installation which was used as a nuclear weapon storage facility. We are fairly certain that this facility included a stockpile of the Mark Twenty-eight Bombs.”

“There were rumours about a facility to the south-west,” She sighs, deflated-but-compliant. Uri flicks through her Pip-Boy. “Any chance you can point it out on a map?”

“Certainly,” Quinlan waits until she has zoomed out of their current location, then points at the very place Uri had suspected.

“Sentinel Site Prescott,” she groans. “Damnit.”

“What is it?” Asks Arthur, placing a hand on her shoulder. A look of pure annoyance is etched upon her face as Uri meets his eyes.

“We’ve gotta go back to the Glowing Sea.”


	9. Betrayal

* * *

A vertibird picks Uri up from Waypoint Echo to drop her back at the airport; for which she is very grateful. Though she would love more time to catch up with Scribe Haylen, there’s a constant stream of battle-ready adrenaline keeping Uri’s nerves on edge. They are so close, now. So, so close. They have the nukes, Ingram will soon have the power, and then Prime will be ready to go. She gazes down at the warmongering robot as they dock aboard the airship, and is again stricken by just how deadly he would have been at Anchorage. Would the Great War have gone differently if they’d had this metallic monster at their back?

Uri knows that something is wrong the second her feet hit the catwalk. Kells is awaiting her return, and he looks livid. Sure, she has angered the Lancer-Captain before, but never to this degree. The Brotherhood’s second-in-command has always been a picture of calm austerity… So the fury in his glare has a cold chill crawling up her spine. Never one to shy away in fear, Uri reaches up to disengage her helm.

“Lancer-Captain,” She frowns, “Sir - have I done something wrong?”

He looks even _angrier_ at that.

“I do not believe for a moment that you were unaware of this,” the Captain spits. Uri hadn’t noticed the Lancer-Pilot disembark beside her, but she does now. He cowers behind her suit to avoid from his commander’s wrath.

“Do you want to at least fill me in on what you are referring to, _Sir_?”

“Do not feign naivety!” His oak eyes are wild as he steps closer. “You may have the Elder wrapped around your finger, but you do _not_ fool me. I was under the impression that you were good for him. I have always had my concerns regarding your past, but Maxson seemed happy - so I accepted you. Your many successes for the Brotherhood backed your worthiness. Proved you to be loyal regardless of your bouts of going AWOL; but everyone aboard this ship knows that you often make friends of abominations. So, I find it _very difficult_ to believe that you did not know about this!”

“I have _no idea_ what you’re talking about!” Uri thunders, fighting the urge to toss her helmet. The throbbing vein in his temple looks like a worthwhile target under this tyraid of unwarranted abuse. Even through his fury, the Lancer-Captain recognises they are not alone. He sets his sights on the terrified pilot.

“Dismissed, Yanning! That goes for all of you - inside the ship!”

The deck-scribes, who had been drawn in by the officer’s anger, quickly scurry to flee the docking station. Uri grinds her teeth whilst willing her temper to cool down. There’s no point in tossing the Lancer-Captain off the Prydwen. She wouldn’t get to fight the Institute if she did something like that, would she…?

“Paladin Danse!” Kells spits the second they are alone. “He is a synth.”

His fierce gaze stays locked on her face: trying to prove his theory right by catching a knowing expression… But Uri’s eyes widen, and her jaw goes slack.

“No,” she chokes. “No, you’re wrong. That’s _impossible!”_

“Proctor Quinlan discovered it with thanks to the holotape you retrieved. I can assure you that his findings have been treble-checked.”

“Shit!” her heart thumps dreadfully, “he can’t have known. The Railroad… _fuck_ , the Railroad must have wiped his memory. Given him false memories.”

The glassiness leaves her eyes. It’s replaced by sheer panic.

“Where’s Paladin Danse?”

“That is _none_ of your concern!” Kells barks. He had appeared sympathetic upon realising that Uri was in the dark, but the dread in her stare has his jaw twitching once more.

“Then I want your permission to come aboard. If you won’t tell me, the Elder will.”

“Elder Maxson is not on board.”

“ _Shit!”_

Where is Danse now? Does he know about this? _Was he planted by the Institute?_ The paranoid side of the Knight is crawling up metaphorical walls in horror. No. Danse wasn’t planted. He had ample opportunity to take Arthur down. Instead, he dedicated his life and soul to the Brotherhood’s core… Her heart twinges upon remembering: he shares their bigoted beliefs. God, if he knows, he must hate himself.

“Has the Elder gone after him?”

Kells says nothing, and it’s answer enough.

“Oh, Danse,” she can’t help the tears pooling in her eyes. Uri claws a hand through her hair, racking her brain for ideas. Maybe she could pilot a vertibird without killing herself? Or she could try jumping overboard. People have done it before. Del set up a damn contest over it…

“How can you _sympathise_ with it?” Kells snaps. Uri’s balks in disgust.

“Not all of us are racist fucks, believe it or not. People would have treated you as lesser back in the day, you know? All because of your skin. I got it, too. I’m Mexican and, no matter how much I saw America as my home, bigots were always there to tell me I wasn’t welcome. It’s sad as _hell_ that this bullshit still exists in twenty-two-eighty-eight!”

“Our hatred for synths is not so simple! Skin colour is not dangerous - technology _is._ Those machines are designed to blend in, but how long until they get better ideas? How long until they overthrow us!?”

“Careful, sir. Your inner Outcast is showing.”

Out of every testing thing she has said since docking the Prydwen, it is _this_ that enrages him. Looking a lot like she landed a slap to the face, Kells prowls forward and, despite towering over him in her armour, Uri falls back.

“Do not think for a _second_ that you understand the first thing about me, Knight Sanchez. You could study every fine detail of the Brotherhood’s history, and it would still not be enough for you to try and use my time as an Outcast as a weapon!”

“They’re the reason Arthur has had to welcome shitty views, are they not?”

Kells scoffs.

“Those views are the very foundation of our cause! The very same views I brought from the West when I volunteered to deliver Arthur Maxson to Elder Lyons--”

Kells snaps his mouth shut at that, and Uri realises that he has said too much. His anger, tied with his pride for the Brotherhood, have lead him to divulge something he - clearly - never wanted anyone to know. So, it was Kells who brought Arthur to the East… he grew up in the original Brotherhood chapter, then. A lot of his actions suddenly make sense. Does this mean Kells knew Arthur’s parents? Uri feels some of her anger fade: momentarily replaced by curiosity.

“Arthur doesn’t know about this, does he?”

“I would rather it remained that way,” the Lancer-Captain speaks stiffly. Eyes burning with fire do whatever they can to avoid her, now. “Keep this secret, and I shall tell you where the Elder planned to go.”

Remembering Danse, Uri shoves out a hand to shake. They can talk about this later.

“Deal!”

\--

It has been a long, long time since Arthur tracked anything through the wastes. After losing Sarah, he had spent many months stalking Shepherd’s every move. His position as Sentinel allowed him the focus he needed. Killing that Deathclaw came with many perks. No matter who took over as Elder in those years of infighting; he was always able to keep to himself. Do what he wanted without outside interference.

He harnesses those skills now. Danse left his armour the second he hit Waypoint Echo… someone warned him, then. They must have overheard his conversation with Quinlan, or Kells. Though it was tempting to immediately spread the word, Arthur couldn’t bring himself to do it. He doesn’t want the traitor delivered to him on a slab. No.

He wants to kill Danse himself.

As a Maxson, Arthur has seldom experienced betrayal. His name alone often evokes reverence. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and is accompanied by an anger so fierce it rivals that he had felt for the super mutant who killed the only family he had left. Danse had been part of his elite force. The then-Knight had more than proven himself in the field of battle. Whichever idiot playing Elder at the time overlooked his improvements; too drunk off their newfound power to actually do their job. But Arthur had noticed, and he knew that Danse understood how he was feeling. He lost Culter to the same fate. Taking the newly-promoted Paladin to fight Shepherd was only logical.

He shouldn’t be berating himself for not realising, but old habits die hard. One of the reasons Arthur was eventually elected Elder was down to his perception. It’s yet another reason he didn’t want Quinlan to spread the news. What a way to instill doubt: admitting to your soldiers that you never noticed one of your favoured Paladins was a synth. They wouldn’t understand. He thinks back to the synth he had killed at Greentech Genetics. She-- _it_ had died as any human would. With a sickening lurch, Arthur wonders if any of them have even killed a gen-three synth before, or if they all have fallen victim to their lies.

The trail ends ahead: leading the Elder to the steps of a run-down church. Again, he has elected to leave the Prydwen without his power armour. The lack of stealth would have left him at a disadvantage no matter how reassuring the protection may be. Paint peels from the off-white door as he nudges it open. 200 years worth of dust is disturbed. Covering his eyes and nose with an old bandana, Arthur presses on. Candles line the room’s edges; casting an orange hue across the long-dead congregation. Skeletons that have fallen apart after decomposition litter the pews, but he ignores them in favour of the lone figure sat at the bench in the front.

The Elder is still furious enough to fight, but confusion overrides his immediate desire to attack… Danse is just sitting there. He makes no move to run, and he is clearly not trying to hide. Synth or not, a carnal need to survive would surely prevent such a blazé decision. He stops a few rows down: hoping the feel of his eyes boring into the synth’s back will push him into action.

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you came yourself,” he finally sighs. Disturbing the horror-stricken silence. Arthur wants to snap and hiss, but his throat is stuck. Tongue heavy as curiosity wins out. Danse must recognise this. He makes no move to meet Arthur’s eyes, but he does tilt his head to the side. His profile is cast into shadow, but Arthur can just about make out the resigned heaviness in his features. “Until Quinlan got that list decoded, I thought synths were the enemy. I never expected to hear that I was one of them.”

“How did you find out, if you did not already _know?”_

Arthur feels as though he’s caught in a lag, but his subconscious seems to know what to say.

“Not everyone in the Brotherhood agrees with your morals, Sir. We all know that. It’s the elephant in the room, if you will.”

“So, you were warned?” He moves, now. Pacing up the aisle. He wants the thing to face him, dammit. He wants it to have to meet his eyes as it spills its lies. Danse’s gaze lifts, and he does as Arthur wants.

He looks broken.

“Why are you here?” He almost whispers; hardening his weathered look into a scowl. “Do you even want me alive?”

“How could you _not know_ you are a synth?”

“It doesn’t make any sense to me either,” he bursts. Danse’s voice betrays his own helplessness. “It just… it feels like a cruel joke. I remember being a child. I remember growing up in the ruins. _Everything._ I… I suppose they programmed that all into my head. I mean, I feel like I’ve been in control of my entire life, making my own decisions and determining my own fate. Even though the proof states I’m a synth, I don’t feel any different than I did before… I… I still feel like a human.” When Arthur makes no move to reply, the synth’s voice hardens. “Why does any of this even matter to you? You’re obviously here to kill me.”

“If you wanted to die, why would you run?” Danse appears caught out by that. His response is almost sheepish.

“The moment I learned the truth, I knew my life was in danger. I’m a soldier, so self-preservation kicked in. I needed to regroup and assess the situation. I decided to head for the bunker I marked as a fallback point for Gladius, but then I realised - by running, I was just making everything worse. I was worried you would send Uri after me. Perhaps you would try to test her loyalty? I regretted it, then. I should have just stayed on the Prydwen and accepted the inevitable… I’m a synth, which means I need to be destroyed. I need to be the example, not the exception.”

Arthur agrees. Danse cannot be allowed to carry on. It should never have existed in the first place… synths are the result of technology running amok. His own research, after Greentech, holds proof of how dangerous they are. How well they are able to masquerade as human beings. It’s disgusting. Danse’s mockery of emotional turmoil has his jaw aching with how he grinds his teeth. All he wants is to bury his combat knife into that thing’s chest. How dare it fool him for so long!? Forcing humans into believing it’s one of them… It doesn’t matter whether it’s a spy or sleeper agent; Arthur is sure that the Institute is behind this. That they planted Danse on purpose. He wants to kill him. To flip the proverbial middle-finger at the Institute. That smarmy Director may think he has the upper-hand but, by decoding their encryption, Arthur is certain that this would be the perfect element of surprise.

But then there is Uri.

He almost lost her, after Greentech. She hadn’t known the first thing about that machine, and yet she was enraged to the point of going AWOL. Danse had gone with her. Had kept her safe. It fills him with dread - thinking about leaving her alone with him now - but… but he did keep her safe. Not only then, but after she fled the Institute. It was the first time Danse had ever disappeared from active duty but, when he returned, it had been with Uri. The report he handed in afterwards told Arthur of how he had found her; hiding away in Goodneighbor, barely eating and foregoing cleanliness to sit and ruminate on her past. If Danse hadn’t known where to look… If anyone but the Paladin had gone in to find her…

“Elder Maxson?”

He almost jumps at the sound of his name. It’s Danse. He’s stood now; casting him a concerned stare.

He can’t do it.

This thing is nothing more than a hindrance, now Arthur knows the truth. But he knows that Uri will not see it that way. Killing Danse would destroy her. Their relationship would be unsalvageable… She has only just told him that she loves him. The thought of that alone sends warmth flooding through his chest. He can’t lose that. Not now. Not ever. Not for anything in the world.

Not even for killing the enemy.

“Just… _go_ ,” he rasps, dropping his combat knife to the ground. Danse blinks - clearly shocked by this turn of events. When he makes no move to leave, Arthur’s mouth turns to a snarl. “Run! Get as far as you can, damn it. Flee to a place where they don’t know of your kind.”

“You can’t let me live,” Danse heaves, looking devastated. “You’re risking _everything_ by letting me live.”

“I risk losing a lot more if I let you die.”

Realisation dawns upon Danse’s features. Arthur has never hated himself more than he does in this moment. It’s not regret he feels; but self-induced anger. If he had never been foolish enough to fall in love, then he would not have to make this impossible decision. His status in the Brotherhood, or Uri Sanchez? If anyone ever finds out about this then he will be executed. By allowing Danse to live he may as well be burning the codex he has sworn to follow. It’s outright blasphemy.

“As far as the Brotherhood is concerned, you’re dead. You were pursed and slain, and your remains were incinerated. From this day forward, you are forbidden to set foot on the Prydwen, or speak to anyone from the Brotherhood of Steel. Should you chose to ignore me, know that you’ll be fired upon immediately… If I go down, you go down with me. Do we understand each other?”

“I do,” he nods. “Thank you for believing in me, Arthur.”

The grateful look in its eye has Arthur reeling. His next words are laced with venom.

“Don’t mistake my mercy for acceptance. The only reason you are still alive is because of _her.”_

Danse nods, and Arthur grabs for his knife. He flees before the gravity of his decision has time to hit home.

\--

Arthur stumbles across Uri on his way back to Waypoint Echo. In his haste, he had forgotten to bring any vertibird grenades with him. She is plowing through the wastes in her power armour - but freezes when she spots him.

“What did you _do_?”

It is the first time that he has ever found the cold fury in her eyes comforting. Seeing how furious she is… He knows that he has made the right decision.

“Calm yourself,” Arthur sighs, sitting on the hood of a nearby car. He flashes her a glance of Danse’s holotags. “I brokered a deal. Danse cannot be allowed to remain in the Brotherhood. If I want to keep my position as Elder they must think him dead, so he has been banished. He is on his way to the border as we speak… I assume he is headed to Canada.”

The hydraulics of her suit let out a groan as it disengages. She leaps out of the shell and rushes him. Arthur finds himself dragged down into an embrace so tight that it almost cuts off his air supply.

“Thank God,” she sobs, drawing back for a moment to meet his eyes. Tears stream down her face; reflecting her grief… She had so clearly expected to find Danse dead. No matter how hard the Paladin’s loss may be, she will find comfort in knowing that he’s still alive. “Thank you, Arthur. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He hugs her again to hide his look of disdain. It’s best that Uri believes he hadn’t wanted the synth dead. His chest feels heavy as she continues to shower him with praise. The selfish side of him needs her to believe it. If he corrects her, then he fears that allowing Danse to live would go to waste.

Relying on the acceptance of another person to this degree is terrifying, especially when he knows that she disagrees with him so strongly on such inherent beliefs. It’s enough to almost have him feeling guilty… But all Arthur has to do is think of Sanctuary, or University Point, to remind himself of the destruction those synths are truly capable of. Danse may have put on an excellent facade, but Arthur swears that he will be the _only_ synth he ever willingly lets live.


	10. Eve

The nuclear payload is being packed into Prime as they fly overhead; Uri continues to watch until her power armour lets out a warning beep. The power core died sometime on their way back, and it hasn’t shut up since. The Knight has half a mind to just leave it on the catwalk, but that wouldn’t win her favours with the deck-scribes. So, feeling a lot like dead weight, she trudges on up to the Prydwen’s entrance - just looking forward to getting it back to the armour bay.

Sadly, Kells stands waiting for them.

“Jesus,” Uri grumbles, then promptly ignores Arthur’s scowl. He jumps off before her and strides on over, leaving Uri to trudge behind.

“Elder. I assume the traitor has been dealt with?”

“Indeed.”

It’s a good job Uri has her helmet on. With how much she has on her mind, she had almost forgotten to act like Danse is dead.

“Permission to leave?”

“Denied,” Arthur hisses over his shoulder. The exchange seems to please Kells. “The strangest thing happened while I was on the ground. It seems that Knight Sanchez knew exactly where I was headed… You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Lancer-Captain?”

If he were capable of it, Uri would swear that he blushed. His sudden, flustered bout is evidenced through a blink of surprise followed by the stiffening of his stance. Uri can only compare it to watching the stick up his ass being thrust deeper.

“Apologies, Sir. Knight Sanchez has a particular way of pressing the buttons of those around her. If I hindered the mission in any way, I will take punishment in whatever way you see fit.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Arthur sighs, throwing her a defeated glance. “The mission was a success. Just… don’t let it happen again.”

Uri smirks. She doesn’t miss the flash of anger that flits over the Lancer-Captain’s features. Oh, she can just picture what he wants to say. A harshly worded reminder that he cannot expect that of his soldiers when he lets her walk all over him - the Elder of their organisation. But, like the good old soldier he is, Kells keeps his mouth shut and nods in understanding.

“Has Proctor Ingram returned?”

“Not yet, Sir. Our scribes reported an influx of synths as they reached the agitator, but the mission is on target to be a success. We had reinforcements on stand-by, and they were able to attack immediately.”

“Outstanding,” Arthur says, but he doesn’t sound happy. He sounds exhausted. “I shall prepare for the Proctor’s return. Make sure the scribes working on Prime are at the airport for when she gets back. Dismissed.”

“Yes, Sir!” Kells salutes, but the Elder is already prowling up to the Prydwen’s entrance. The Lancer-Captain flashes her a disgruntled glare, so she hurries on up to the power armour station before he can chew her out for following him so overtly.

Arthur is on the command deck when she returns; pacing the panels overlooking the Commonwealth’s ruins. He doesn’t make any effort to speak to her, so she leaves him be.

With Ingram’s mission to collect Prime’s power core still ongoing, Maxson finds himself in an uncomfortable position. Caught between a rock and a hard place; he is not yet able to debrief his soldiers on his battle plans. The air is tight with their impatience but, despite this, he finds himself worrying for Ingram’s safety above anything else. It is the first time he has allowed Ingram into battle since her injury. Although she has kept up with her fitness regime, she is not the spritely woman she once was. Her time in the Pride was spent battling Enclave and Super Mutants alike - but the Pride are gone, and so too is the battle-ready Paladin she had once been.

God, he hopes she survives this.

Uri can see that he’s worrying, but she doesn’t have the energy to comfort him. It’s taking everything in her to fight the tide of grief… First Mac’s death and now Danse’s exile. She isn’t sure how she’s still going, though she suspects it has everything to do with her need to destroy the Institute. This could very well be the eve of battle, but it doesn’t stop her from pouring herself a generous glass of whiskey.

“Is that so wise?”

“He speaks,” is Uri’s only response. A spark of anger flicks over his features, but that is quickly quashed. He’s far too tired for an argument right now.

“If you drink too much and we end up having to battle the Institute tonight you will not be joining us.”

“I’m not an idiot,” she snaps, “but, if you hadn’t noticed, these past few days have been hell… I think the world owes me a damn drink.”

He can’t exactly argue with her, so Arthur goes back to his silent pacing.

When they get word that Ingram has returned, they both hurry to the airbus. She is being checked over by Cade when they find her; watching as a handful of scribes heave the beryllium agitator into the back of Prime’s 'body.’

“From this angle it looks like one big fusion core,” the Proctor says in way of greeting.

“Happy to see your mission was a success!” Uri beams.

“Same to you,” Ingram quips an amused brow, and it takes everything in Uri not to wince. The Proctor is yet to find out that Danse has been exiled.

“Well!” Scara's clap brings the trio to attention. She is heading their way with a clipboard in hand. “Looks like Liberty Prime is about ready to go. We need to run a few more diagnostics, Elder, but if everything goes to plan then he will be ready for deployment in a matter of hours.”

“Perfect,” he nods, glancing up at the 'bot. “I want him switched on at twenty-two-hundred hours. The more I hear of this attack at Mass Fusion, the more it appears time is running out. If we don’t strike first, I fear they will,” his eyes fall to Ingram, who exhales heavily.

“I wish you were off-base, Sir. But after that…” the Proctor shakes her head, “we had the upper-hand in skill and weaponry, but they have the numbers. We lost good soldiers for Prime, today. It’s time for us to strike.”

“Then I shall have a meeting called immediately.”

Uri remains quiet as Arthur passes the orders onto some nearby initiates, who look proud as punch to carry out their Elder’s request. The nerves are really beginning to get to her, now. She just wants to be dismissed.

“Come, Knight,” Arthur tilts his head towards the airport. “You’re needed.”

I’m not a soldier. It’s not some dawning realisation. Uri Sanchez is a pre-war party animal playing pretend in a sea of military descendants. She feels sick. Her heart is hammering in her chest as it finally occurs to her: they are going to war, and she has absolutely no right to be here.

“The last time there was a war, I was tucked up at home far away from the action.”

Arthur stills; finally giving himself the time to study her expression. His eyes shine with understanding, and he cocks a smirk.

“You’re not getting cold feet on me now are you, Knight?”

“Just a little chill, Sir. Suppose it would be stupid of me to not be scared.”

“Don’t be fooled by protocols,” a hand comes to rest on her shoulder, “everyone around us is afraid. We don’t fight for medals or party favours, as the pre-war military did. The Brotherhood fights for survival - to hold onto whatever remains of humanity. Contrary to the ruins we live in, the world is yet to end. We will do whatever it takes to prevent that, and that is why we are here.”

“Nicely done,” Uri scorns, but her tone is playful. She was never one for the US’ motivational propaganda, but Arthur’s speech rouses something in her. A sense of determined pride. Destroying the Institute is the right thing to do - not just for humanity, but for the enslaved synths they hold captive. She can’t back out now. She has been training months for this moment… and her conscience may just mean the difference between life-and-death for the innocents in that God-forsaken facility.

Their pre-war meeting consists of Maxson, Kells, Quinlan, Ingram, Cade, Gavill, Sykes, and herself. They are gathered around a table within the hour, pouring over a map of the Commonwealth as the Elder gives his final say on outposts, Prime’s route, flight paths and the airport’s defences. Before he gets into his own position, Arthur stands.

“Because of the nature of this battle, Knights will not be permitted to enter the Institute. They will be positioned across the CIT perimeter, whilst others shall remain here to secure our defences,” Uri looks furious, but he holds up a hand before she can protest. “It is for this reason that I will be awarding Sanchez the rank of Paladin. If not for her dedication, we would never have discovered where the Institute is - we would not have the weaponry Prime needs, and I fear I would not be here to lead us into battle… Does anyone wish to argue against this?”

Quinlan looks disgruntled, but he makes no move to contradict Arthur’s reasoning. The others nod - some more enthusiastic than others but, nevertheless, no one argues against her promotion.

“Excellent,” Arthur grins down at Uri, “it’s official, then. I will be taking a vertibird with you, Star Paladin Sykes, and you, Paladin Sanchez. Once Prime has created an opening for us, we shall lead all other Paladins into the Institute, and deal with them once and for all.”

“An honour, Elder!” Booms Sykes, who winks at Uri. “I look forward to working with you too, Paladin.”

The feeling isn’t mutual, but Uri smiles regardless.

“And what of Paladin Danse?” Gavill asks… drastically dampening the moods of Maxson, Kells, Quinlan and Uri. The Elder actually looks sheepish.

“My apologies. In our haste, I have foregone updating you on his status… With thanks to the data Sanchez required from the Institute, it came to our attention that Paladin Danse was a synth--” some inhale in shock. Ingram looks mortified, whilst Sykes looks disgusted. “As a result, Danse has been executed. I trust none of you have any qualms about this?”

They shake their heads, giving the Elder their blessing… but Ingram’s eyes lock onto Uri. She goes to hang her head, but something in those piercing greens of hers is full of knowing. Uri knows Ingram was loyal to the Lyons. Maybe, despite that flash of understanding, she will keep her suspicions to herself. For not only Danse’s sake, but Arthur's: Uri hopes so.

The group fall silent as Prime’s voice booms through the airport. He lists his schematics to Professor Scara… Everything sounds to be in working order. With that knowledge, Maxson turns back to them with new found vigor. With everyone set, he sends them off to pass his battle orders to those under their command. Uri catches a bus back to the Prydwen with Arthur, Quinlan and Ingram, whilst everyone else gathers their soldiers down at the 'port.

“How are you feeling?” Uri mutters, flicking a glance Ingram’s way. The Proctor lets out a chuckle.

“Ah, I’m fine. Cade was only checking me over 'cause it was part of Maxson’s deal. Didn’t so much as get a scratch, and synths weren’t the only thing I had to fight through,” her face goes sour, “those old world morons had two assaultrons and a sentry guarding the agitator. That was tougher than the gen-twos.”

“I’m glad you got back into the field,” Uri replies, and Ingram smiles. Yes, the Proctor is complaining, but Uri can tell she’s positively brimming with glee.

“Yeah. I don’t wanna come across as too keen - he could still change his mind.”

They both turn to Arthur with knowing looks. He is too busy swapping plans with Sykes to notice, but Quinlan lets out an amused breath.

“I must say, I too am pleased to have you on the field again. The Brotherhood always fared better with Lyons’ soldiers fighting battles.”

“Thanks,” Ingram seems taken aback by Quinlan’s admission.

“Take the praise,” Uri hisses, “don’t question it! Just take it!”

Ingram finds herself in a fit of giggles after that, and Uri is quick to follow. All eyes aside from the pilots land on them, but none of them bother to ask what’s so funny.

“Come, Paladin,” Arthur says as they depart. There is a strange look in his eye that Uri can’t place, so she bids goodbye and good luck to Ingram then follows on. Promptly ignoring any knowing looks as he leads her to his quarters. Uri’s enfolded in his arms immediately and, despite all of the anxiety around them, she melts into his embrace.

“Thank you,” is breathed into her hairline, and she immediately knows he’s talking about Danse. Though a sudden swell of grief clogs her throat, the newly-promoted Paladin nods.

“It’s okay. He’s alive. As long as he’s alive I can play pretend,” whiskey eyes brim with gratitude as they meet his own. “Anyway, enough of that. We’ve got a war to win. I’ll cry later. For now, I want to talk to you.”

“Is this regarding strategy? Because, if so, it should really have been mentioned--”

“I want to be the one to kill Shaun.”

Arthur’s words die in his throat. Uri senses this through the way his body stiffens around her, so she draws back.

“He’s put me through hell, Arthur. He’s responsible for the deaths of the only two people who really gave a shit about me after my parents died. If that wasn’t enough, he played cat-and-mouse with me, and then Mac--” she pauses. His name alone has her throat constricting, but Uri is quick to recover. “I have to do it. It has to be me, and you need to give the order.”

Arthur has not told Uri about his run-in with the Director. After meeting him… he sympathises entirely with her hunger for revenge. But he has watched her go through the pain of looking for a boy who turned out to be a sociopathic monster. The ferocious need to find him could only be compared to a mother’s love for her child. No matter how much Uri hates him, Arthur does not trust that she can do what has to be done.

But she won’t listen to him if he words it like that.

“Listen to me,” he cups her face in his hands; wiping the glassiness from her gaze. “After Sarah’s death, I was certain that killing Shepherd would alleviate my grief. I truly believed that. But it didn’t… You’ve seen that for yourself. Killing Shaun isn’t going to help you. If anything, it’s going to increase any guilt you still harbour. I can’t give the order, Uri. I need you to understand that.”

“Damn you,” her voice comes out thicker than before. “Damnit, I need… I just…”

“We’re going to do it together,” he presses a kiss to her forehead as tears spill from her eyes. “I’ll do it. We will be together the entire time. I won’t draw it out and, when it’s all over, we’re going to get through this. You are going to survive this, Uri. If there is anything I can promise you, it’s that.”

“Shh,” Uri urges because, if he keeps stripping her emotions bare like this, she isn’t going to have the strength to fight. So she does the only thing that works - she pulls him into a searing kiss and begins fighting with the zip of his suit.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

“Elder Maxson? Sir, your vertibird is on standby, and Proctor Ingram states that your power armour is waiting in its bay.”

Arthur’s smiling as he pries her hands away. It’s not teasing or amused; but full of adoration so strong that it knocks the air from Uri’s lungs.

“Come on,” he whispers, “there’s plenty of time for that when we’re done.”

\--

_“Honey? I’m back!”_

_Nate vaguely hears his wife’s reply, but it’s muffled by the rustling of multiple shopping bags in his arms. Codsworth dutifully takes some away - deeming his attempt at carrying them all in during one try 'admirable’. The duo are unpacking everything when Nora finally does show up. She is juggling a variety of files amongst vomit-laced clothing and an empty baby bottle._

_“Shaun decided to vomit on everything. These reports are from the office - lord only knows what I’m going to tell Gibson!”_

_“Gibson would find something to pick at anyway. At least Shaun’s given him a valid reason.”_

_Nora snorts, pausing to drop the milk-stained pages on the counter. By the time she has got the washing machine running, Nate is sat with two mugs of cocoa watching a rerun of the Shroud._

_“Aww, thank you!” she collapses on the couch beside him and, soon, her legs are in his lap and they’re reciting the lines word-for-word like the nerds they are._

_“I’m so glad he finally settled,” Nora sighs. “It’s like, I love him more than life itself, but that boy knows how to make a racket.”_

_“Think he’s getting that from Uri,” Nate sighs. “I bumped into her at the 'duper mart. She was causing a scene at the check-out.”_

_“They take her fake ID again?” Nate nods, and Nora shakes her head. “She’s a tough nut to crack. I swear, sometimes I feel like she’s making progress - then she’s out drinking and sleepin’ around again.”_

_“Hon,” he pulls her in to wrap his arm around her shoulder. “I didn’t mean for it to get you down. Uri’s gonna be okay. I know it might not look that way sometimes, but she’s tougher than she seems. S’just gonna take some time.”_

_“I know, I know…” Nora’s exhale is heavy; eyes downcast. “I just hope that time comes sooner rather than later. She’s capable of so much, y’know?”_

_“We’ll help her. We just gotta keep doing what we’re doing. She’ll realise eventually. When she does, she’ll be a force to be reckoned with.” Nate chuckles, “she’ll surprise us all, that one. You wait and see. When Uri grows into herself, there won’t be anything that’ll get in her way.”_

_“I hope so,” Nora murmurs, but there’s a slight smile teasing at her lips that wasn’t there before. Nate’s right. Nora’s not sure what it is going to take to give Uri the shove she needs to get a hold of herself but, whatever it is, the lawyer cannot wait to see where life takes her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I feel like it's been forever since I updated (it's been 3 weeks holy hECK). Sorry it took me so long, I just had a deadline this past week & juggling this PhD proposal with my MA assessments is tricky af. My last deadline is mid-May so after that I should hopefully be updating more often (though I do have a 15,000 word project to work on during the summer... heh. I am just gonna keep ignoring that for now). 
> 
> ANYWAY. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. It was a difficult one to write, still not entirely sure I like it but ya got it anyway!


	11. CIT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> W o w.
> 
> I am so, so sorry this took so long. I have never really written combat like this before, so it took a lot figuring hour how I wanted this chapter to go. Hopefully, with this section out the way, I will be able to get through chapters faster. I hope this was worth the wait!

“Where are they?” Uri’s helm tilts in Arthur’s direction, but her eyes remain on the scene before them. On the way here, the newly appointed Paladin had dozens of potential scenarios playing through her mind. None of them amounted to this.

To absolute silence.

Brotherhood soldiers are scattered across the barren lawns. Some take point behind makeshift barricades, and others give in to small curiosities as they poke and prod at various remnants of the Institute’s origins. But there is not a single synth in sight… and that has Uri feeling more anxious than dropping straight into battle.

“Report!”

“ _Elder Maxson, this is Paladin Giles - no sign of any Institute personnel or synths since we arrived. My group were the first to arrive._ ”

“They must have had pre-emptive intel!” Arthur growls, shoving the radio over to Sykes. “I would ask how, but I suspect that has everything to do with their abominations!”

“If they’re hatching some sort of scheme then we need to get down there!” Uri grasps his arm. “Sir, we can’t stay up here and expect the others to be our cannon fodder. I know we were prepared to drop straight into action, but we can’t just _wait_.”

Sykes steps forward.

“But the minigun--”

“Fuck the minigun!” She growls at a surprised-looking Star-Paladin, “I’m going down there. Are you with me, Elder?”

“Affirmative. Star-Paladin, remain here and man the gun.”

Not a single soldier jumps as their power armours land in unison. They are too busy scrounging for any sign of attack. Uri double-checks that _Buster_ is fully-stocked; dying to ignore the panic threatening to consume her.

What’s going on? Where are they? Of course they knew that the Brotherhood were coming. Hell - every trader, civvy and _raider_ knows. Arthur’s melodramatic entrance into the Commonwealth made sure of that. Not only are there no synths, but the entire square is void of their spy-birds.

“What do we do?”

“We need Prime to find an entrance. Until he arrives… There is nothing we _can_ do.”

Arthur doesn’t need to tell Uri that this frustrates him to no end. The sharpness of his tone speaks volumes. His helm may be hiding his eyes, but she can almost see his stormy eyes scouring the place for any unusual movements. With a swallow, she raises her weapon and begins a sweep of her own. It’s not long before another, power-armoured figure has sidled up beside her.

“Well, well, well - if it isn’t our new Paladin!”

“Excellent attention to ranking, Knight,” Uri’s lips almost twitch into a smirk - but anxiety gets the best of her. “What the hell’s going on here, Del?”

“Lord, if I know. TMI, but I feel about ready to shit myself. Hey - isn’t there some pre-war saying that covers this? Sitting quacks?”

“Sitting ducks,” She snorts, “where’d you dig up that old fossil?”

“ _Y_ _our_ vault, Ma’am. It was on some note about the mutiny.”

“Touché.”

Delecroix’s chuckle dies quickly, and he pauses his strides.

“How’re you holding up?”

“Don’t,” her helm shudders with the sharp shake of her head, “I - I’m holding up. Can’t look into it more than that, especially with this confusing mess--”

“THEY’RE HERE!”

The duo swerve in-sync, honing in on their targets. Dozens are relaying in, and are immediately met with a sea of laser-red. They catch some almost instantly, but others use their downed brethren as shields. Del has her six so well that their armour clangs together as the force of their constant fire threatens their stance. Bolts hit the Gen-1s faces, wire-y necks and chests, cutting through them as though they were paper. Why only Gen-1s?

“THEY ARE SCOUTS! TAKE THEM DOWN _IMMEDIATELY!_ ”

Arthur yells the commands as though he has just read her mind, causing her to turn. Uri has obviously seen him in action before - but watching him in the throes of war is explanation enough as to how he rose up the ranks so soon. He’s a machine; wielding _Final Judgement_ as both a canon and melee weapon. The gangly synths don’t stand a chance. He cuts them down before they can so much as run towards him. Then, another voice cuts through the fire.

“SYNTHS ON THE ROOF!”

“ELDER MAXSON, WATCH YOUR SIX!”

Uri spins so fast she’s surprised her armour doesn’t tumble. There’s no time to count, but there are at _least_ a dozen snipers… but far too many bullets are raining down for the numbers in sight. It seems the Institute, too, have noticed Arthur’s combat abilities.

He’s the focus of their fire.

She’s covering her steps in record time; almost shoving fellow soldiers out of her path. Those in his vicinity are openly risking their lives to cover him, but their attackers’ bullets are cutting through their armour with ease.

“ANTI-MATERIAL!” The Elder bellows. Uri isn’t well-versed in weapon tech; but she is able to put one-and-one together. He’s balancing his shots with looking for her. His pauses are too lengthy. It’s throwing his perception.

“I’m alive, idiot! Keep shooting!”

“No way to speak to your Elder!” He growls - because _of course_ he does.

“Now!?” With a well-aimed shot, Uri’s target falls from the rooftop. “You’re seriously going there _now_?”

Even amongst the gunfire, there is no mistaking the distant thunders for anything other than Prime. But he’s needed _now_ , not _soon_ . The visible assailants have fallen, but who knows how many synths are lurking above? She has half a mind to just shoot until she gets lucky, but she _really_ doesn’t want to waste what precious ammo she has--

Arthur’s pained howl cuts through her thoughts. He’s been injured before, but never has he made a noise like this. Uri isn’t the only one to stop. Everyone closeby has stopped their shooting to seek out their Elder, whose power armour core has faltered. It must have. Hell, the _metal armour_ surrounding it is burning a violent shade of red. It’s going to explode and he’s stuck in there. God, he’s stuck - and she is, too, 'cause she has _no idea_ how to prevent the inevitable. Everything feels distant as horror turns her stomach. _He’s going to die._

“ELDER MAXSON!”

“EVERYONE GET _BACK_! IT’S GONNA EXPLODE!”

The fusion core is white-hot. Arthur’s screaming conveys that-- but, just as Uri is _sure_ it’ll go, the core is ejected from its place in his suit.

 _That’s_ when it explodes.

Everyone nearby is tossed off their feet. Uri’s body rattles inside her armour’s frame as she’s flung to the ground. She’s going to be bruised as fuck, but she ignores her body’s protests to leap back to her feet.

“ARTHUR!?”

The gunfire has ceased, and everyone is still. Uri doesn’t care about the risk - she opens up her suit and tumbles out, over in the direction that she saw Arthur fly in.

Telltale beeps cut through the silence, and Arthur rolls out of his damaged frame.

“ _Jesus_ ,” she collapses beside him, searching for injuries as Arthur rests on his stomach. Her geiger counter is furious, but she doesn’t care. It’s a gristly scene. From what Uri can see, the heat from the fusion core has fused his skin and flight suit in a melted, agonising mess of charred flesh. He’s alive. That much is obvious - but his breaths are shallow, and he’s not trying to hide his pained gasps. “God, Arthur. Jesus. Someone-- g-get _something--_ ”

“We need to get the Elder back to the Prydwen!” Del cries. Still alive.

“Get him on that vertibird!” Orders Sykes; who is now standing beside them. He kneels down to snap up Uri’s attention. “This was intentional. A targeted attack. Attempted assassination - but they have not succeeded, Paladin. And we won’t let them. We must continue without Elder Maxson.”

She wants to protest. God, she can’t do this. She _can’t_. Not without Arthur. That realisation scares her, but not as much as going back to the Institute without his reassuring presence. Arthur has survived against impossible odds - how will they get through _this_ impossible battle without him!?

A tight grip on her hand has Uri snapping back to reality. It’s Arthur. He’s reached out for her.

“Get some Rad-Away, get b-back in your armour and f-f-fight.”

His eyes… Lord, she can _see_ the pain he’s going through. The fact that he isn’t fighting requests to return to the Prydwen is enough to know that Arthur cannot stay. Not caring for her professionalism, she leans down to place a quick kiss to his temple.

“I love you.”

“Stop that!” His responding growl is not at _all_ what she had expected and, when Uri draws back, Arthur looks angry. “You will c-come back. You can do this. Take the f-fusion pulse charge. Destroy the reactor. That-t’s an order, Paladin.”

He looks like he wants to say more, but the scribes scurrying over to help have Uri pulling away. With a dose of Rad-Away hooked up to her suit, she forces herself to retrieve her rifle and head back over to the Star-Paladin; still attaching the fusion charge as she goes. The heaviness that she feels has nothing to do with added weight.

They can hear Prime, now. See the glow of his laser-eye. The oversized robot is bellowing out capitalist propaganda that would have her squealing with laughter if not for her nerves… He needs to be here now. The quiet is _haunting_. Their set-up went from feeling overpowered to a Goddamn _fishbowl_. It’s ridiculous to let this get to her now, though. Of course the Institute have the upper hand. They have from the start.

 _You can do this_.

Uri dares to glance over once more. Arthur looks _pissed_ as he barks orders at the poor scribes… but he thinks she can do this. Do it without him by her side. Well, she did survive her re-emergence without him. Damn well saved his life back at Bunker Hill. Uri knows she isn’t useless, but it’s difficult to feel like anything but an imposter surrounded by the bulking individuals born-and-raised as soldiers of the wastes. She’s nothing but a party-loving idiot. A failure. Doomed into mediocrity… She stops punishing herself as the vertibird flares to life. It only sets off when Prime is actually visible - and she thanks whoever made that decision, for war cries reignite the moment the ‘bird has lifted off the ground.

They’re back. But, this time, it’s gen-ones and twos. Uri has never seen so many synths in her _life_ . _Cannon fodder_. Sykes shouts as much as he orders the front lines to engage and neutralise. She follows the Star-Paladin’s path; weaving around soldiers battling to keep weapons stocked and armour intact.

“ _FREEDOM IS ALWAYS WORTH FIGHTING FOR!_ ”

Lightning-like strikes hit in sharp bursts; dropping more-and-more synths. Their tactic is obvious. No Coursers are around. They must have them standing guard on the inside… Well, one only needs to _glance_ at their oversized, nuke-tossing robot to know that there’s no way of keeping the Brotherhood out now.

“ _WE WILL NOT FEAR THE RED MENACE!_ ”

They’re _everywhere_. Uri is trying her best to use _Buster_ , but Gen-1s are clawing at her armour plating. She drops her weapon and smashes two of their heads together. A Gen-2 is approaching; with a shriek she pushes forward - meeting it head on to knock it down with heavy fists. These ones are easily beaten; but the numbers are beginning to break the Brotherhood’s fortifications. She avoids looking for human bodies - too preoccupied with the bots heading their way. Prime’s laser is like a beacon of hope as it takes out droves of them in seconds - but not even that can keep them from the inevitable bloodbath.

“We need to get inside!” Sykes roars over the heads of some Gen-1s. Uri has a brief moment of respite, so she turns to Prime. As if on queue he projects a strange, grid-like beam across the CIT ruins.

“ _S_ _CANNING DEFENCES._ ”

“Do it fast!” Uri bellows, crushing a chest beneath her boot. “Goddamn stupid slow-ass nationalist _moron_!”

“ _SCANNING RESULTS: NEGATIVE._ ”

“Fuck!” She shrieks, trying to hold off her latest enemy fast enough to find her gun. Prime has started stomping around again, but Uri is far too preoccupied to worry about that now. Another two are decimated under her wrath before she can scramble towards her laser rifle.

“ _WARNING: SUBTERRANIAN RED CHINESE COMPOUND DETECTED!”_

“We _know_!” An unfamiliar soldier yells back. Uri bursts into a shaken fit of giggles - unable to control the stream of emotions stealing what's left of her sanity. There’s a giant robot stood in the middle of CIT fighting smaller robots. What in the name of God has her life come to?

“This is  _so_ fucked up.”

“What!?”

Uri doesn’t get the chance to fill Del in on her inside joke, as a huge burst of Prime’s white-hot laser cuts through the air. Some soldiers have to leap aside to avoid certain death whilst others curse the 'bot and heave for breathable air. Uri feels like she’s being cooked alive. A feeling that is not helped by the thick stench of ozone and… Oh, God. Overcooked meat.

“Did he just _kill soldiers_?” her voice is a husky mess, but the words manage to claw their way out.

“Negative,” Sykes shakes his helmed head. “It cremated already-dead remains.”

“ _Fuck_.”

“GET DOWN! HE’S GOT A ‘NUKE!”

Uri’s battered body is forced though another wave of pain as she throws herself to the ground as far as possible from Prime’s. The ‘bot tosses it down into the pit his laser just burned into the ground; wiping out any remaining terrain in nuclear hellfire. Bits of soil and filth thud against the Paladin’s suit. She doesn’t bother to move until it stops. Who knows if Prime’s going to throw another for the hell of it.

“OBSTRUCTION ELIMINATED!” It finally confirms.

“Status report?”

“I’m fine, Sir,” Uri groans, “how’s everyone else?”

Some _have_ been injured by the blast, but their numbers are still looking good. With thanks, Del is ok - and Sykes seems to have come out in as good a shape as any, considering the battles brutalities so far.

“Scribes will be sent in to assist with medical procedures. Right now, our priority is getting inside and detonating that charge. Knight Delecroix, the loss of the Elder has left us one man down. We will need your assistance.”

“It would be my honour, Sir!”

The trio turn to the gaping hole Liberty Prime has created. All they can see is darkness. No one knows what awaits them; but Prime confirmed that an entrance has been created.

“You ready, soldiers?”

“Yeah,” Uri nods. For now, the battle above-ground has ceased. Chaos continues around them, even as the sick sense of dread stills their progress. It’s like being in the eye of a hurricane, she thinks. But there’s no time to embrace the calm now.

“Alright,” Sykes steps up to the edge, “On my command, we jump!”

 


	12. To Victory

She should have known they would end up here. Of course the teleporter would be the highest point within the Institute. It’s exactly as she had remembered it, only there’s now a huge, gaping hole in the ceiling. Various types of land litter the ground from the layers above their heads, but it’s just a minor inconvenience compared to the cleanliness surrounding them.

“This is…” Del shakes his head. His awe is palpable enough without being put into words.

“A _disgrace_!” Sykes growls. “What a way to live! And yet they kept it to themselves!”

“Sir?” Uri raises a brow.

“Their need to play God with technology is sickening. It certainly makes it easier to destroy them, but I can’t help but question why they never tried to help those above ground. From this room alone, it is clear to see they have far superior living standards. I wonder if they have the technology to wipe out ghouls or super mutants. It appears so, so why didn’t they do something?”

“With all due respect, Star Paladin, now may not be the time to jump to conclusions.” Del sounds both sheepish and exasperated - something Uri hadn’t thought possible. Luckily, Sykes nods.

“Very true…” He sighs to recollect himself, then turns to her. “Alright, Paladin Sanchez - lead the way.”

“Wait--” she looks down at the pack Arthur had given her, then back up at her commander. “How do I _use_ this thing?”

“It has to be attached to the reactor. There’s a button to go with it - probably elsewhere - that will allow us to detonate the charge from a safe distance. It should be enough to blast this place into ruin.”

There’s a thud somewhere from behind, causing the trio to spin with their weapons raised. A disgruntled-looking Ingram cast a glare in their direction - feigning a dust-off of her now fully pieced-together power armour.

“Get to work, soldiers. I’ll be here to teleport you out when you’re done zapping synths.”

“Stay safe,” Uri orders, which earns her nothing but a sarcastic smile. It says: _of course I will, idiot. I didn’t come down here to die._

As Uri had suspected, the elevator she had taken before has been shut off. Luckily there is a door off to the left, so she has them backtrack to find a way in. It’s locked, of course, but that’s nothing a couple of kicks from three power-armoured soldiers can’t fix. Del had offered to use a grenade. _Idiot_ , the Paladin wordlessly leads the way as they push onwards.

“ _This_ is the Institute?”

Uri’s glad she has her helmet on, because they can smell the decay despite their filtration systems. Del has already switched his lamp on, so she and Sykes do the same.

The place is dingy and deserted, and the rusted ceiling had clearly fallen in on itself years ago. It’s an utter ruin - reminding Uri of the older buildings above ground. Nothing like what she had experienced her first time in the Institute.

“This must be an older part of it,” she mutters, pulling a rotten drawer out from its desk. Inside there are old telescope components, some pencils and a long-rotten notepad. “Yeah, looks science-y enough.”

“There’s a stairway down the hall. It has to lead somewhere…?”

“Lets go.”

The second Sykes steps through the archway, they are fired upon by three well-hidden turrets. The Star Paladin jumps, so they take cover by a blown out window to carefully take them out. A handful of gen-twos join the fray, but it’s nothing their rifles and power armour can’t handle. Uri picks one synth and fires a spray of lasers. They go down, sparks flying from frayed wires.

The next room is larger albeit just as decayed. Years’ worth of dust left dormant is kicked up; so much that it seeps in with the stench she’d turned her nose up at before. Her geiger-counter is clicking and her bag of rad-x is now empty, but there’s not much to be done. There’s a railing overlooking whatever lays below, but Uri can’t pause to check it out. Blue beams are flying up at them, so she quickly ducks through another doorless archway to stairs taking them deeper inside.

“More of them!” She roars, prepping _Buster_ for an onslaught. The hallway is claustrophobic. Sykes and Del begin taking out whatever’s below from another glassless window. Ozone mixes with the dust and grime, burning her nose as she fires at whatever’s in her sights. Four gen-twos go down from her shots alone, and she presses on - forgetting to wait for her comrades, but finding it gloriously empty.

What the _hell_ is she doing here? What business does she have parading around in power armour, fighting fucking _robots_ ? Leading soldiers into battle. Her knuckles bash against her armour’s frame as tremours wrack through her. It should be Arthur. _This_ should be Arthur.

“ _Sanchez_!?” Del’s panicked roar snaps her back to the present in time to see him bash against the stairwell in haste. She can hear his exhale of relief when he lays eyes on her. “Don’t _scare_ me like that!”

“We have to stick together!” Sykes growls, stepping into her personal space. “Consider yourself warned, Paladin. If you run off again and we survive, I’ll have you punished.”

“Sorry, Sir!” She lies. God, she wants nothing more than to keep running. But they wouldn’t get it - this wasn’t her life. Never was. _This_ was something she only saw at the movies. Uri bets that they haven’t ever seen a damn movie.

They take pause at another window, now. It overlooks a larger room than any they have been in so far. Synths are patrolling the far side, right next to… a sentry bot. She almost lays her pistol down and calls quits until she realises that it’s not moving.

“Anyone know how to hack?”

“Do we _look_ like scribes?”

“ _Sorry,"_  Uri reaches back to disengage her armour.

“What are you _doing_ , Paladin!?”

“Saving our asses!” She snaps back. Yes, Sykes is in charge, but his bossiness is starting to grind her gears. Now her hands are free, she sidles up to the terminal by her vacated armour and hits a key. One try. _No._ Two tries. _Nada._ Third time’s a… CHARM! She hisses in delight as the screen changes. There in big, capitalised letters is the diamond she had been hoping for.

_[ACTIVATE PROTOTYPE SEQUENCE]_

“Oho!” She cheers, “watch _this,_  boys! And make a note to learn some more ‘scribe stuff!’”

“ _S_ _ENTRYBOT, ONLINE. HOSTILES DETECTED._ ”

The synths are all yelling as hot, red laser streams are shot their way. Not from the group, but from the Institute’s own experiment. Del watches - with what she imagines is awe - from the window, and Sykes takes point at the foot of the stairs as she slides back into her armour.

“It’ll go for us too, so take cover!”

They do as she commands. Del heads to duck behind an old console whilst Sykes presses forward to conceal himself behind a junked-up conveyor belt. Uri heads for the nearest central console and peers over it. The three of them help the sentry by shooting at the immeasurable amount of synths that had been laying in wait for them. It’s absolute chaos, but as more synths pile in not even her doubts can silence the thought: _I just saved all our lives_.

As their numbers dwindle, Uri dodges stray shots to head back to the terminal. The sentry shuts down, and she _just_ manages to make it back into her suit before the remaining robots spot them. Del quickly sets a scope onto his rifle before lining up shots from his safe spot. Sykes charges in with a roar of _ad victoriam_ \- shooting synths with one hand whilst pummeling them with his power-armoured other. He provides a welcomed distraction, which Uri uses to fire pot shots at whatever remains. They drop as they always do, and the soldiers charge through the other end with little more than scratches, bruises and the usual radiation damage.

“Where now?” Del pants - helmed head flickering between Sykes and Uri.

“There’s no doors… but there’s _that_.”

Sykes points towards a hatch of some kind, so Uri tries the button on the nearest wall. What d’you know - the damn thing _actually_ opens up! If there’s a God, he clearly decided she had gone through enough misfortune after Arthur’s brush with death. Lady luck has smiled on them since they hopped down that nuclear hole. _About damn time_.

The atmosphere changes as they hit the next level. Though their surroundings show signs of abandonment, the air isn’t as thick. Their pace slows as they head down winding hallways heaped with pipes of varying colours. It hits her as they reach another, intact door: there’s no dust here.

“We must be close.”

“Indeed,” Sykes nods, “this next door may very well be our way in. Do you have any advice, Paladin Sanchez?”

“Me?” She blinks, then pauses. Right now there’s three of them and many, many more synths. Uri is willing to bet that Shaun split them in two. Gen-ones and older twos to the surface; newer twos and gen-threes in the Institute. The models they fought upon infiltration looked cleaner, almost. Well looked after… Dread slowly crawls up her spine as she thinks about their numbers. “We need back-up. I say we wait until the second team catches up with us. If that is our way in, then I doubt we’d survive the onslaught alone.”

“Then that’s what we shall do,” the Star-Paladin nods - voice full of appraisal. She purses her lips, wondering if that was some sort of test… nevertheless, she decides to utilise her time by checking in on _Buster_ \- giving the rifle whatever service she can to distract herself from the battle to come. Her thoughts trail to Arthur.

Is he alright? Did they make it back to the Prydwen? Will Cade be able to treat him? She curses that last thought. There’s no time to be thinking about that, right now. Cade is an excellent doctor. Surely Neriah will rush to help, too. She has a heap of experimental medicines she’s been working on… but what if they make it worse? Would they dare use those on their Elder, of all people? Her heart beats erratically; sending a roll of nausea through her stomach. _Just breathe. Clear your damn head. Don’t think about it now._

“Star Paladin! Thank steel you’re alright!”

Del and Sykes are already standing to attention. Presumably, they heard the others marching to join them.

“Excellent to see you, Paladins.”

“We are yet to meet Paladin Sanchez, but I fear that now is not the time.” The unfamiliar soldier’s voice is soft and friendly. Though she has no idea who’s behind the helmet, the tension falls from her shoulders.

“My sentiments exactly,” She nods. “Let’s get in there!”

The room they enter is garishly bright after weaving through what Uri assumes was some sort of robotics lab. It’s clinical and clean, exactly as the relay room had been. Desks are placed in neat rows. Workstations, judging by the futuristic tools littering the table tops.

“I’ve not been in this part before,” she says before anyone can ask.

“Paladin Ryland has already requested back-up,” the unfamiliar man says. “We’re the first unit to make it in, but we won’t be alone for long.”

 _Alone._ That word has her swallowing with dread.

“ _Look_ at this place,” a third, unknown Paladin mutters. He steps forward - lifting a hand to the closest terminal. “This technology… It’s like nothing we’ve ever--”

She never gets to finish that thought. At that point, something flies in through an open doorway - and it doesn’t take the expertise of a soldier to figure out what it is. Sykes yells at them to get down, but they don’t have time. _This is it._ Uri expects a huge explosion. Something that will burn hot and red; send them flying into the walls caging them in. But that blast never comes. What they’re met with is a burst of blue that pulses through the room.

There are three terminals in sight, and each one explodes. She goes to jump away from the nearest one -- but she’s frozen. Her HUD flickers before going static. Blocking her vision. Uri never imagined she could be more terrified than she is now; unable to identify who or what is yelling as the sound of laser fire floods the room.

“PULSE GRENADES!” Paladin number three bellows. Uri has seen those in action before, but they’ve never been able to shut down entire suits of power armour. The others are climbing out of their frames now -- engaging a wave of synths. Entering a sea of gunfire. 

Turning the damn valve on the back of her suit is _much_ harder without the electronics easing the strain. When it finally pops open her arms ache, but she leaps into action. Some of them use their suits as cover, but Sykes and the female Paladin are already pushing on. Uri rushes to the Star Paladin’s side - taking his six to knock down two pristine gen-twos.

This must be where they grow their food, for rows of planters are scattered throughout the huge, circular room. Terrified screaming has her glancing to see flurries of lab coats… Seems the scientists are not all that keen on joining in. A laser catches her chestplate, and Uri thanks her prior instincts for deciding to adorn her combat armour. A look in Del’s direction has her noticing that he hasn’t done the same. _Shit._

“You’re an _idiot_!” She growls, fleeing to where he has ducked behind one of the planters. He’s breathing heavily - favouring a nasty burn to the leg.

“Not the time!”

“Stay down!”

Uri peers out from cover and catches two more synths as they enter. The doorway behind them is larger than the rest, and appears to lead off to another hallway. _Bingo_.

“We need to get to that door!” She yells, pointing in its direction. Sykes tears through a synth’s skull before turning to look.

“Copy that!”

“Oh _shit_.”

Del is staring, wide-eyed, at something off to the right. Uri follows his line of vision and finds herself thinking the same thing… There lies a great tank holding three angry-looking gorillas.

The glass is lifting away.

“What are _those_!?”

“Gorillas!” Uri shrieks, “Pre-war animals! They’re strong and deadly! Take them _down_!”

Sykes and the female Paladin take the front, leaving the others to protect them from the remaining synths. Uri reloads in record time to catch one before it can yank her rifle away. Another receives three heavy hits to its already burning chest, and a third a blast to the head. The adrenaline has her trembling, yet her shots always hit their target. Del continues to use her as a form of cover, but still manages to take out anything coming at them from a distance.

“We make quite a team!” He rasps. She can hear the pain in his voice yet, even now, he tries to lighten the mood. Her lips twitch in what would be a smile were they not in the middle of the Institute.

“ _Fredrick!_ ”

The Paladin at Sykes’ side screams in horror, and all their humour vanishes. Uri turns to see one of the gorillas holding the Star-Paladin by his leg. He roars in anger, swinging his rifle to hit it on the head. The beast bellows in kind, then raises the Paladin above its head to smash him into the ground. Uri and the Paladin fire fiercely at its chest, but their shots do not take effect fast enough to stop it from smashing an ugly fist into Sykes’ chest.

“God _damnit_!” Uri heaves, aiming _Buster_ at its face. Three strikes have it collapsing - giving her enough time to shoot at two more synths joining the fray.

She goes on autopilot after that. Shots damage her chest and leg plates, but they never slow her down. When the last synth falls, she can finally rush to Sykes’ side.

“Is he...?”

Uri doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to. Star Paladin Sykes’ unseeing eyes stare up without blinking. His own blood pools in his mouth - face twisted into a frozen gasp of shock. The female Paladin wails, then begins kicking at the nearest synth. When Uri looks up it’s Del’s eyes she meets… He looks stricken.

“He fought the Enclave. Took out one of their leaders. I never thought… _Jesus_ …”

“We have to keep moving,” the kind-sounding Paladin murmurs, placing a hand on her shoulder. The grieving Paladin screams, shaking her head wildly.

“I have to -- I’ll stay. Stay here. Get him out.”

“Dianne, you can’t--”

“Don’t you _dare_ tell me I can’t! That’s my baby _brother_ , Goddamnit!”

Empathy hits Uri in full force. She doesn’t know this woman. Doesn’t know how she’ll respond, but she doesn’t care. She does what no other Paladin looks like they will so much as _think_ about doing: she yanks her into a fiercely tight hug.

She begins sobbing the second she’s in her arms. Over her shoulder, she spots one of the unfamiliar men gaping… This Dianne must not do emotional outbursts, then. Uri doesn’t care. She isn’t interested in decorum or suppressing how she feels. She raises a hand to stroke the woman’s hair, muttering words of sympathy and comfort as she cries.

They don’t move until the next round of back-up arrives. Five more Paladins. Each one takes off their helmet as they drink in the scene before them… horror etches upon each face, and looks as though it will stay there for good when they see Sykes.

“Alright!” Uri draws away, pulling a reluctant-looking Del in to take her place. He awkwardly pats Dianne on the back as she wails, but makes no move to push her back. “I need someone to help the Paladin take Sykes back to the surface.”

“I’ll do it,” one of the Paladins with them nods. “He was a friend.”

“Great,” Uri gives him an appreciative smile before turning to the others, “alright, our mission is clear. Elder Maxson gave me this to attach to the reactor, wherever that may be. That doorway looks like it leads to another section of this hellhole, so let’s go and show these bastards what we can do!”

“Ad victoriam!” Is bellowed back in response - some even raise their fists to their chests, and it makes her _smile_. Del calls her in to say their suits are back up-and-running, at which she sighs in utter relief. After injecting his wound with a stimpack, they both hop back into their power armour and return to the main room, where a new Paladin is hacking what looks to be the main terminal.

“You’re good at this, y’know?” Del murmurs low enough that only she will hear. “It’s not every day the Paladins take orders from anyone other than…” He coughs, “they believe in you, Uri. You should too. S’all I have to say.”

She stares as he marches up to someone and claps them on the back. _He’s right._  She may be a vault dweller. She may have been a partygoer with no prospects for the future. She may not feel like she deserves to be here when good people died in the place she should have, too. But Uri cannot deny that she has earned her place today. Her emotional outbursts have been considered a nuisance by those like Quinlan and Kells - but in the field, she’s earned her keep. She can feel the respect these Paladins have for her, and she knows… She knows she’s in charge, now. She could order any one of these men or women to walk into a group of synths unaided, and they’d do it. It’s a lot of pressure, but it sends her confidence soaring.

Their next stop is much more familiar, and that confidence is put to the test.

In the centre of the biggest foyer Uri has ever seen stands the elevator she had used when she first arrived at the Institute. Synths are _everywhere._  But it’s not just gen-twos, now. Gen-threes are pointing their weapons at them, and Uri’s heart leaps into her throat as she thinks of Danse.

“You don’t have to do this,” She croaks, shaking her head at one of them. It - _they_ \- are dressed in the same lifeless garb every other synth is wearing. Uri wonders how long the woman has been enslaved. But she just shakes her head. Her brown eyes are full of malice as she raises her gun.

Uri leaps aside and begins firing back. She cringes as her shot hits the woman’s leg, but her snarl only intensifies. This is disgusting. Cruel and barbaric. Uri thinks back to the Railroad… if only Deacon hadn’t been so cowardly. She might’ve been able to help these synths. These _people_ . Her eyes burn as she kills one. Her throat catches as she sends another down, screaming in agony. Gen-threes feel pain. It was easier before. _Why would anyone subject somebody to this?_

She envisions Shaun as she continues on her killing spree; taking cover behind one of the large, curved pillars. Those cold, calculating eyes. His unemotional curiosity. He may not be the cause of this, but his time as the Director has seen this continued. As another falls, she remembers Sanctuary. How many Minutemen died because of him? Then there’s MacCready… Anger she never thought herself capable of blooms from her chest. There’s a feral screech going on somewhere, but she’s too busy fighting to care. Three synths have latched onto her armour and knocked _Buster_ aside. She doesn’t care. The hatred and disgust give her strength she has never known. She elbows one in the face, sending them reeling as they clasp a hand to their broken nose. Uri does not relent. Her fist is next. And another. And another. When he’s down she turns to the next. She should have been there. She should have saved him. The synth cries as she squeezes the life from him, but she doesn’t care. When she finally claws the third off her back they look _terrified_. Uri wonders if that’s how MacCready looked. She doesn’t know how he died, exactly. She never asked.

She crushes their skull under her foot.

The synth numbers are dwindling, but it’s not enough. The reactor isn’t in _here,_  surely. They need to find the section in charge of this place’s power. Once she has blasted another she begins to seek out signage - something, _anything._

 _That’s_ when the security lockdown comes into effect. 

“FUCK!” she vaguely hears Del growl. He’s somewhere off to her left side - a quick glance tells her he’s smashing two gen-twos heads together. Their plastic skin gives way, and soon their ‘brains’ start to flame up.

“MOTHER _FUCKER_!” Uri shrieks. It’s too much. Too stifling. She yanks off her helmet and tosses it aside in a bout of rage. Her eyes cast upward; mouth twisting into a sarcastic smirk. “You just gonna lock me in here? _That’s_ your big move? I expected better from you, Shaun!”

She wouldn’t put it past him to reply over some obnoxious loudspeaker. His calm, booming voice would reverberate off the steel walls like some kind of God.

“ _PALADIN, CAN YOU HEAR ME?_ ”

Disappointingly, the voice is not Shaun’s.

“Ingram?” The smirk falls from her face.

“ _YOU CAN? GOOD. WE’VE LOCATED THE REACTOR. IT’S ACCESSIBLE THROUGH THE ADVANCED SYSTEMS DIVISION. ONLY… YOU CAN’T REACH IT. THE SECURITY OVERRIDE CAN ONLY COME FROM THE DIRECTORS TERMINAL. YOU’LL NEED TO ACCESS HIS QUARTERS._ ”

“That thing not have volume control?” Del grumbles, rubbing at his ears. Uri ignores him. Her attention falls to that damned elevator.

That’s her way in.

“Proctor, can you get the elevator working?”

A pause. The others have removed their helmets too. With the synths dead they are now able to take in their surroundings. A female Paladin gazes up at the trees with wonder, whilst the kind-voiced Paladin reaches down to run his hands through the grass. That’s when she remembers - they will have never seen greenlife before.

“ _IT’S DONE,_ ” says Ingram.

“I’m going alone,” Uri says, turning to her comrades. They cast doubtful eyes upon her, and Del shakes his head.

“To hell with that!”

“The Director is my brother, Del. I _have_ to do this by myself.”

“It could be an ambush!”

“ _This_ was the ambush!”

The kind-voiced Paladin steps forward now, which forces Del to pause. He’s older - probably around fifty, which is pretty unusual for the wasteland. She doesn’t know anything about him. Doesn’t even know his _name_. Yet as soon as he meets her eyes, she’s taken back to all those times Nate took her under his wing and helped her through the worst of nights. Her rage dissipates. It’s replaced with a wave of grief she just about holds back.

“Uri, right?”

“Yeah,” her voice comes out choked.

“Are you confident you can do this alone? If you are, we’ll take your word for it-- no matter what Delecroix says. We will wait by this Advanced Systems division. But only if you’re sure.”

Is she sure? _No._  She’s never been sure of anything-- wait. That’s not true. She was sure of Nora and Nate. Even at the worst of times, she was sure of their ability to care for her. MacCready too. She wouldn’t be alive if not for his patience. His sarcastic wit; his ability to just _know_ what she needed and when. And now Arthur… Well, their road is a rocky one. But she is sure that he loves her. Yeah, she’s been sure of those three things if nothing else.

“I’ll do it alone,” She nods, turning toward the elevator before he can find any indication that she’s lying. _I can’t_ . But she has to, because three of those people are dead and the latter… Well, he could have joined them for all she knows. Uri’s glad no one can see her, because that thought brings tears to her tired eyes. _Don’t you dare leave me, Arthur Maxson. Don’t you dare._

She keeps staring ahead as the elevator comes to life - doing a great job of hiding her frayed nerves. This is it, then. She is finally going to come face-to-face with Shaun. Will he have an army in his office? Or will it just be him? Will he try to kill her himself? Has he ever actually got his hands dirty? The elevator finally stops at that all-too-familiar hallway. The last time she was here, he was talking to her over an intercom. Spouting bullshit about their so-called accomplishments. Uri is met with nothing but silence now, and it follows her up the second elevator ride into his lab.

Nothing greets her. Even his sickening clone experiment is nowhere to be seen.

_Where is he?_

Uri steps through that same doorway he had entered through that day. This room looks to be an office, or maybe a reception area? It’s as vacant as the last room, so she continues upwards.

There he is.

Scenario after scenario has flashed through her mind since the day she left - and none of them prepared her for this. Shaun isn’t hiding behind a wall of synths. He isn’t armed to the teeth. He’s propped up in a hospital bed that garishly resembles a coffin. He was always pale, but not like he is now. Dull green eyes lift from a spot on the ground to meet hers. Finally, she sees hatred twist that dreaded, apathetic mask.

“I didn’t expect to see you again.”

She must look ridiculous, staring as she is. Slack-jawed and rooted to the ground. After a moment he coughs. His glare morphs into a pained grimace, as though each movement causes him great discomfort. Uri blinks. Attempting to fight the haze her mind has been thrust into. Finally, she steps closer, but continues to eye him the way she would an unpredictable live wire.

“Come to see our reactor, have you?” He wheezes. “We got it working without the beryllium agitator. I wonder if your superiors would be impressed? When they steal our research, make sure to keep an eye out for it in the years to come.”

“What’s happened to you? Are you… sick?”

All that anger, hatred and pain is gone. Lost to the feeling seeing him laid in his deathbed has brought on. It’s not grief, but it’s something similar. It has her feeling lost and melancholic all in one… Like nothing she has ever experienced.

“Don’t pretend to care now. You had your chance to help me, and cast me aside instead. It’s not enough that I lay here _dying_ \- now you plan on what? Destroying everything?”

“Don’t try and guilt trip me, Shaun,” her voice is eerily calm as she shakes her head. “You won’t win that fight.” His gaze remains on her for a moment, and then he nods in defeat.

“Tell me, then. Under what righteous pretence have you justified this atrocity?”

“The Institute has been left unchecked for long enough. Before the war, the lives you’ve taken and lengths you’ve gone to would’ve been criminal. You have to be stopped.”

“I asked how _you_ had justified it,” Shaun scoffs. It momentarily turns into another coughing fit, but he speaks through it: "not Elder Maxson. _You."_

“You have to be stopped,” she repeats, “You’re insane. You have spies everywhere - moles everywhere. You kill people for science, and every time you do you insult _their_ name. Nate and Nora wouldn’t want me to let you keep doing this. And you _killed MacCready.”_

“Revenge, then?”

“Justice.”

Shaun snorts and turns to the window, then quickly looks back. Uri’s upwards glance tells her what she wants to know. He had wanted to look out at all he has helped build, but it’s barricaded by the lockdown. _Hmm_ …

“None of it matters now I suppose,” he speaks. “You’ll accomplish your task, and ruin humanity’s best hope for the future. The only question left, then, is why you’re standing here. Is it regret? Or did you just come to gloat?”

A spare thought for the terrified scientists has her mind reeling. Uri could twist the knife deeper by saying she is here to gloat… It would be a welcome way to ease her own pain, but he is less likely to help her if she does.

“You can still help your people. If you do, few of them will die. I need to override the lockdown - when I do, I can warn them. They will have their chance to escape.”

He scowls; visibly shocked-yet-agitated by her request.

“Why would I _ever_ consider helping you?”

“I just told you: I can get the scientists out. They don’t have to die. _Please._ ”

Shaun releases a ragged sigh as his gaze goes to the window once more. He stays like that for only a moment, but each second feels like hours as she waits. Finally, he nods.

“There’s a terminal behind me. Enter access code nine-zero-zero-three. Now, go. Just… leave me.”

Uri swallows, then jumps out of her armour. _9-0-0-3… Yes!_ She is met by three options:

_[ENGAGE EVACUATION PROTOCOL BD-2]_

_[MASTER SECURITY LOCKDOWN OVERRIDE]_

_[DIRECTOR ACCESS: SYNTH SHUTDOWN]_

She is momentarily distracted by the third but, soon enough, Uri is choosing all three options.

“ _ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL. EVACUATION ORDER ISSUED. AUTHORISATION: ONE-Y-R-THREE-ONE. PLEASE PROCEED TO YOUR ASSIGNED EVACUATION POINT.”_

“ _WELL DONE, PALADIN!”_ A second voice joins the fray. It’s Ingram. “ _LOOKS LIKE A PATH SHOULD BE CLEARED TO THE REACTOR, AND I’M HAPPY TO REPORT THAT REINFORCEMENTS HAVE ARRIVED!”_

She sounds pumped. Ready for whatever the Institute has left to throw at them. Uri, on the other hand, feels bleak. Her chest aches. She wishes Arthur was here. He’d know what to say. Instead, the lone Paladin meets Shaun’s eyes one last time…

“You have Nora’s eyes,” she whispers. Who knows if Shaun hears? She doesn’t say it for him, anyway. After tearing herself away she stalks out of the door to the side - hellbent on getting back to the comrades now waiting for her. As with everything: mourning can come later.

At the reactor, chaos lies in wait.

The reactor is buried in what Uri can only describe as the basement. The darkness gives her the same feeling of abandoned unease of levels above, only there is a perfectly polished beacon laying in the centre. _That_ must be her target. Only her target is surrounded by heavily armed, heavily fortified synths, who’re battling what she imagines to be the entire force of Paladins Arthur decided to bring to the Commonwealth. Laser fire flies around them. With a deep breath, Uri sets off in a run.

“I GOT YOUR SIX, SANCHEZ!”

“COME ON, THEN!”

Del is at her back. She can hear his weapon firing - doing her dirty work for her. Brotherhood soldiers leap out of her path whilst synths actively try to plant themselves in her way. But they never stay there long, for every soldier on the field knocks them aside as fast as they put themselves there. Ingram must have given them their orders before they got down here: _get Sanchez to that reactor by any means necessary_.

The old catwalk groans under the weight of both power armours, but neither Uri nor Del falter. She sends synths flying over the side whilst he hits the more reluctant ones with laser rifle blasts. At this stage, it’s like cutting through butter. The emptiness from before evaporates into a steel-clad determination to _win_. Finally, after what feels like an age, they reach the reactor.

Locked with a terminal.

“I have to get out!” Uri shouts.

“Negative!” She turns to see a scribe barrelling in their direction.

Haylen.

“What’re you _doing_ here? Scribes weren’t assigned to the field!” Del yells. Haylen flashes him a grin.

“You’ll be thanking me when I have this open! Watch my back, Paladins!”

Uri thanks God himself for the help. The realisation that she would have to leave herself so vulnerable in a battle like this had her near enough vomiting.

These synths are something else entirely. They wear pristine, heavy combat armour and weild what can only be experimental weapons. Some spit out jets of fire, others fire mini grenades; the one aiming at her seems to be weilding a damn _rocket launcher_ \-- it’s taken out by a Paladin below, and she lets out a breath of unadulterated relief.

“GOT IT!” Haylen roars not a moment too soon. Uri rushes in - wishing she had more time for her eyes to adjust to the sudden beam of blue light at the core. She pulls out the device Arthur gave her and latches it on; triple-checking that it’s secure before she steps out and raises _Buster._

“LOCK IT UP, SCRIBE! WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!”

Pure instinct takes Uri the rest of the way. By the time they hit the relay room she is wheezing with breathlessness. Every muscle in her body aches, _Buster_ is out of ammo and she’s all but carrying a heavily injured Haylen. Ingram looks at the scribe disapprovingly, then has one of the others take her to the platform.

“Uri -- there’s someone here to see you.”

Ingram gestures off to the side, and Uri follows her line of sight. There, being comforted by another scribe, is the same synth that Shaun had tricked her with. Big, green eyes are gazing up at her - he must have pricked up after hearing her name.

“Uri!” he bounds over to clutch at her power-armoured arm, looking all kinds of terrified. “Don’t leave me here! I want to go with you!’

“You… you know who I am?”

“Of _course_ I do! You’re my sister!”

“Who told you that?”

“Nobody told me, I just know!”

The _mourn later_ rule is beginning to crack. This synth… this boy… Uri doesn’t know how or why, but he is responding the way she’d have killed for when she first laid eyes on him. She nods and turns to Ingram, who is watching the exchange with a bewildered expression.

“Get him to the Prydwen. Scribe Friar will look after him.”

The boy cries out in fear as she tugs her arm free, and tears finally begin streaming down her cheeks. Not now… Not now.

“Step on the platform, Paladin. You’ll be teleported far enough away to watch the fireworks safely. I’m relaying everyone out as we speak.”

“I know I’m not authorised to be dishing out praise, but to hell with that. You’re _incredible,_  Proctor. Thank you.”

Blue lightning engulfs her for what Uri hopes will be the last time. The nausea left behind is but a minor inconvenience compared to everything else, now.

“Paladin Sanchez.”

Uri looks up to Kells, and finds him _grinning._  Well, that would certainly floor her if nothing else has today. Suddenly sick of her armour, she disengages and begins yanking off the combat pieces. They’re on one of the tallest buildings around, overlooking the Commonwealth in its entirety. The sun is just beginning to rise.

“Lancer-Captain. Good to see you’re in one piece.”

“I was never part of the battle, though I look forward to watching that place burn. You’ve been outstanding, soldier. I had my doubts, but you have gone above and beyond today.”

 _How is he?_ She can’t bring herself to ask, so she quietly thanks him. Arthur should be here to see it, too.

A good ten minutes pass before Ingram appears to inform them it’s time. By that point, squires have collected up Uri’s uncaringly discarded armour and piled it on the vertibird awaiting their departure. Kells lifts the briefcase he is holding and places it on the building’s edge, then gestures towards the big, red button. His eyes are on Uri.

“Press that button and you not only defeat our enemy, but you restore order and decency to the Commonwealth. It’s time, Paladin. The Institute and their synth abominations must be eradicated.”

She does it without thinking. Time to think will have her cowering away, and Uri cannot afford that now. Her hand comes down to set off the explosion of a lifetime… In her mind’s eye she is thrown back to that day in Sanctuary. The time she had stood on that vault platform as she watched a huge mushroom cloud shoot into the sky. Only, this time, she has ensured the death of the last member of her adopted family - and she is the cause of that terrifying sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, once again, for taking so long! I have a 15,000 word project due for my masters on the 31st August so I've been busy as hell. I only started writing this chapter 2 days ago, and somehow it just kind of ended up finished today. I am actually really proud of this - I hope you all enjoy it & that it was worth the wait!
> 
> On another note - any of you play on xbox one? If so I'd love to play fallout 76 with you! I'll be on beta (PREORDERED POWER ARMOUR ED AND THE PIPBOY AHDJSKDNGK) so let me know if you'd like to join me :)


	13. Personal: SN-111P

Welcome, SN-111P: Paladin Sanchez.

> Messages

> Mission Reports

> Personal 

- 

>> Personal

Password: ********

- 

If you are reading this and you’re not Paladin Sanchez, prepare for me to toss your power armour OFF the ship.

-

Days since it happened: 1

I have to write this down. There’s nowhere else to vent. Everything’s a mess, Arthur is still in the medbay and I need to get Shaun to the Castle before anyone catches on that ~~he’s~~ ~~a~~ ~~synth~~ that he’s not what they think.

I’ll leave his quarters soon. I just need to find the strength.

- 

Days since it happened: 5

Shaun is safe. He’s with ~~Danse~~ a good friend. It was good to finally see him again. Not sure it will happen again.

Arthur’s awake, but I haven’t been to see him yet. Too much going on. Kells is handling so much that Ingram has been told to order the soldiers around. Paladins have been hunting Coursers. I can’t complain. Busy is good. Busy keeps me sane.

- 

Days since it happened: 13

I killed a Courser today. My second, according to everyone else. Makes me wonder if this is how Arthur got his fame. People want to see me as a hero, so they put me on a pedestal. All I did was hit a button. I was hardly behind the strategies, and don’t get me started on making the explosives that detonated the place.

Arthur is angry and I don’t know how to help. He wishes he’d been there. He wants to fight Coursers too. I didn’t have the heart to tell him about the panic attack I had after. Who knew caving someone’s skull in and blowing up a whole settlement would make me feel so guilty?

I hate myself. I don’t know how long I’ll last like this. 

- 

Days since it happened: 17

Ingram’s good.

In the time she has taken over we’ve wiped out a good half of the Coursers on our radar. I overheard some scribes talking about it. They said one of the vet Paladins was saying she’s better than Arthur.

I’m scared for him. His name has always made him seem so untouchable, but hearing that someone has actually had the guts to say anything bad about him is not a good sign. He’s doing better than he was. For the first time ever I am actually hoping he can get back to his stupid job soon. 

-

Days since it happened: 22

People are doubting Arthur, and it’s because of me.

Why am I still here? I only joined this stupid group to find Shaun. They only let me because I became the Elder’s walking, talking map.

Knight Groves started a fight with me today. Told me I’ve distracted Arthur from “our cause.” I told her where she could shove her stupid cause. I’m not here to raid tech from other people. I was here for Shaun. I’m still here for Arthur.

But is it really fair for me to be? It feels like people either see me as some sort of sick celebrity or the Brotherhood’s timebomb. I don’t know which is worse.

- 

Days since it happened: 31

I’m leaving.

Arthur is well enough to work, and he has just walked right back in as though none of this doubt even exists. The whispers have become well-known gossip now. Some people think his age is showing. “He was good until Sanchez came along.”

We should have been more careful. Kissing in front of everyone. Arguing in front of them. What did we expect? I blame me more than him. He’s never really had anyone he could trust like he does me. Which is why I can’t leave.

Everything about this is impossible.

-

Days since it happened: 46

Arthur keeps having nightmares, and I haven’t slept in 3 days because all I see when I close my eyes is Shaun.

Nate, Nora, Shaun. I’m so sorry I didn’t do better.

-

Days since it happened: 62

Cade gave me a medical diagnosis for depression, so I’m not allowed out in the field. Idiot. I should never have gone for that review.

Kells yelled at the crew about their lack of faith in Arthur. Told them some codex bullshit about trusting the Elder. It’s shut people up for now but I doubt it’ll last.

I love Arthur, but I don’t know if I can do this. They’re talking about going back to the Capital Wasteland but my life is here. I don’t deserve to run away from everything I’ve done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am s o sorry I disappeared.
> 
> I finished uni, started a full time job, & tried to write this chapter so many times but hated them all until my friend suggested this format. 
> 
> On the upside, there is still another fic on the way - so this is not the end of Arthur and Uri! Now I have finally got out what I needed to set the scene for the next one, I will hopefully have something else up for you all soon.


End file.
